THE 



lilFE 



/vSC.^ 



OF THE 



REV. THOMAS SCOTT, »•»• 

RECTOR OF ASTON SANDFORD, BUCKS : 



INCLUDING 



A NARRATIVE DRAWN UP BY HIMSELF, 



AND 



COPIOUS EXTRACTS OF HIS LETTERS. 



BY JOHN SCOTT, A.M. 

v» 
VICAR OF NORTH FERRIBT, AND MINISTER OF ST. MARIS, HULL. 



" They glorified God in me."— Gal. i. 24. 

" I laboured more abundantly—yet not I, but the grace of God which 
was with me."— 1 Cor. xv. 10. 



NEW-YORK: 

WHITE, G.\LLAHER & WHITE, 7 WALL-STREET. 
1828. 






Sleight k George, Printers, Jamaica, L. I. 



^ , PREFACE. 



It is not my intention to add to a volume, already, 
perhaps, too bulky, by here enlarging on any of those 
topics which the subject of biography in general, or the 
contents of the present work in particular, might suggest. 
All that I propose, is briefly to advert to a few points 
which may seem to require notice. 

The narrative, which I now present to the world, will, 
no doubt, produce, upon different classes of readers, very 
different impressions. Possibly it may carry a degree of 
offence to the feelings of some, to contemplate the very 
humble scenes in which one, who has since been regard- 
ed with much veneration, was conversant throughout 
the former years of his life. This, however, is a case in 
which, could the sentence be divested of the pride, I 
fear, inherent in it, we might be tempted to apply the 
w^ords — 

Quantum generi demas, virtutibus addis.* 

But it is more becoming to say, as my father was accus- 
tomed to do — without at all wishing to disparage exter- 
nal distinctions where they existed — that in all these re- 
spects, he was a mmi of no pretensions. Nor can any 
Christian, appreciating his other qualifications, consist- 
ently regard him the less on that account. 

Others may view, not without jealousy, a person who, 
by his own showing, was once " far oil" from God and 
from goodness, represented as eminently ^- brought 
nigh ;" distinguished by the divine blessing and by great 
usefulness in the church of Christ. The real and well- 
informed Christian, however, will regard the mighty 
change with far other feelings : and to all descriptions of 
persons, his family and friends would say, if we "glory" 
in our revered relative, it is not in what he was by nature, 

* To depress my rank is to exalt my character. 



IV PREFACE. 

but in what he became by divine grace : or, to express 
the sentiment in terms which would have been still more 
agreeable to his own principles and feelings, We "glorify 
God in him." 

Some may, perhaps, object to the full disclosure that is 
made of those circumstances of his history and charac- 
ter, which always humbled him in his own sight, and 
which may tend to abase him in the view of worldly or 
Pharisaical persons. There remained, however, not much 
of this nature to be added to the confessions of " The 
Force of Truth :" his supplemental narrative, included 
in this volume, was all written in the same unreserved 
style : and it appeared to me that it would be unworthy 
of his biographer, as it would certainly have been con- 
trary to his own wishes, to attempt any suppression of 
what neither could nor needed to be concealed. 

It is more than possible that the publication of so de- 
tailed a story, concerning a clergyman of humble station, 
may appear to many a proceeding altogether calling for 
— perhaps scarcely admitting of — apology. Some no- 
tice of this objection will be found in an early part of 
the work itself. I shall only here add, that I could not 
but remember, that I was called to give to the public an 
account of a person, on whose works — of plain didactic 
theology — and those charged at the lowest price at 
which they could be afforded — that public had not 
thought it too much to expend more than two hundred 
THOUSAND pounds, duHug the author's own lifetime. 

On the part of many who bore a high regard for my 
father's character, some impatience has been expressed 
for the appearance of the present work. I trust, how- 
ever, it will now be seen, that time has not been lost in 
bringing it forward. Indeed, I cannot but fear that I 
may incur the charge, rather of premature publication, 
than of unnecessary delay. 

The work itself will sufficiently explain the nature of 
the materials from which it has been composed. I would 
only, therefore, observe, that, of all the letters which 
are introduced into it, there is not one of which any copy 
had been preserved by the writer. Their preservation 
has depended on the persons to whom they were address- 
ed, and it appears to have been, in great part, accidental. 



PREFACE. 



The letters will, I trust, be judged a highly valuable 
part of the volume : and, as will appear to the reader, 
there are many more in reserve, from which a farther se- 
lection may be given to the public, if it should be desi- 
red. With this view, I would still earnestly invite those 
friends who possess letters of my father's to communi- 
cate to me, through the medium of the booksellers, 
either the originals or authenticated copies of such parts 
as may not be mixed up with private affairs. To those 
who have already complied with this request, I beg 
leave here to return my sincere acknowledgments. 

I find that it may not be superfluous to insert a cau- 
tion with respect to any new pubhcation bearing my 
father's name. Whatever is not expressly sanctioned 
by his family, must be considered as appearing contrary 
to their wishes. 

May 6, 1822. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. IsfCLTJDING THE FIRST STXTEE3V YEARS OF HIS LIFE. 

Page 



Mr. Scott's own memoir of his life, 

Plan of the present work, .... 

1 747. His birth and early education, 

His eldest brother, ..... 

1757 to 1762. At School, at Scorton, in Yorkshire, 
A peculiarity in his early turn of mind, . 
Remarks on Schools, ..... 

1762. Short apprenticeship to a surgeon at Alford, 

Remarkable incident during his apprenticeship, 

Reflections, 

Extracts from the * Force of Truth,' relative to this period, 
Employment in the grazing business, with his father, 



J3 



14 
15 
16 
ib, 
18 
lb. 
19 
20 
21 
23 



CHAPTER II. Fro3i his apprenticeship to his ordination. 
1763 to 1772. Hardships from his sixteenth to his twenty-sixth year, . 

Some account of other members of his family, 

His attempts to obtain oruers, 

1772. His ordination by the bishop of Lincoln, (Sept. 20th,) 

He accepts the curacies of Stoke Goldington, and Weston-Under- 
wood, Bucks, 

Reflections on his ordination, 

Extracts from the * Force of Truth,' 

Apology for the preceding narrative, 

for Mr. S.'s censures of himself. 



An incident. 

His character as displayed in letters of this period, 

CHAPTER III. From his ordination to his marriage. 

1772. Settlement at Stoke, 41 

Family of George Wrighte, Esq. of Gayhurst, • . . ib. 

1773. Entrance at Clare Hall, Cambridge, 42 

His studies, ib. 

His parishes, ......... 45 

Attention to clerical duties, 46 

Death of his sister, Mrs. Caborn, 47 

Rev. John Newton, curate of Olney, 48 

Extracts from the 'Force of Truth,' . . . . .49 

1774. His marriage, (Dec. 5th,) . . . . . . .51 

His finances, 53 

His family worship then and in later life, . . . .54 

CHAPTER IV. The great change in his religious views. 

1775. Removal to the curacy of Ravenstone, . . . . 58 



24 
26 
29 
32 

33 
35 
ib, 
37 
38 
39 
40 



via 



CONTENTS. 



1776,1777. Birth of his two eldest children, 

1775. Death of his sister, Mrs. Gibbons, 
Great change in his religious views. 
Important letters relative to this subject, 

1776. He devotes himself entirely to the work of the ministry, 
His sentiments on study and learning, . 

Doctrinal views at the close of 1776, 
Extemporary preaching. 



CHAPTER V. Period at weston underwood, till 

PUBLICATION OF THE ^ FORCE OF TRUTH.' 

Removal to Weston Underwood, 

Death of his father and mother. 

Renewal of intercourse with Mr. Newton, 

Practice of medicine among the poor. 

Progress of his religious inquiries, 

Ministerial faithfulness — Bart. Higgins, Esq. . 

Playing at cards, .... 

The theatre, .... 

Interview with a clergyman, 

The vicar of Ravenstone, 
1779, 1780. Birth of two sons — Death of a son and daughter, 
1779. Publication of ' The Force of Truth,' . 



. 59 

. ih, 

. 60 

. 61 

. 71 

. 72 

. 74 

. 77 

THE 



1777. 



1778. 
1773. 

1778. 



77. 



77 
78 
79 
80 
ih. 
82 
83 
84 
85 
86 
ih. 



CHAPTER VI. Letters belonging to the period of the 

PRECEDING CHAPTER. 

1779. Letters on numerous deaths in his family, particularly his In- 

fant son, . . . . . , .88 

1780. On the death of his daughter, . , . . .90 
1778, 1779. On the impression produced on his relations by his change 

ofviews, . . . . . . .91 

Tenderness of his affections, . . . . .94 

1778 to 1781. Letters to a relation by marriage, pressing the great du- 
ties of religion, . . . . • . .97 

CHAPTER Vn. From the first proposal of the curacy 

OF OLNEY, TO THE CLOSE OF HIS MINISTRY THERE. 

1780. Proposal of the curacy of Olney, . . . .100 

Changes there on Mr. Newton's removal, . . 101 — 105 

Small-Pox at Olney and Ravenstone^ .... 101 

Jail fever at Stoke, . . . . . .103 

Remarkable case, . . , . . .104 

1781. Removal to Olney, . . . . . .105 

Week-day lectures, . , . . . .106 

Lady Austen — ^Cowper, the poet, . . . 107, 108 

Question of Infant Baptism, ..... 109 

Regular ministrations, . . . . .111 

Extract on itinerant preaching, . . . .112 

Rev. Dr. Carey, of Serampore, . • . .114 

1776. Dissenters at Northampton, . . . . .115 

1783. Severe illness in Shropshire — Letter from Rev. J. Mayor, . 116 

1784,1735. Thanksgiving Sermon— Discourse on Repentance, . 117 



COKTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER VIII. Correspondence during the period of 

THE PRECEDING CHAPTER. 

Parish of Olney, . . . . . .118 

1779 to 1782. LettersofRev. J. Newton, . . . .119 

Leicester, ----- 120—122 

1781. Situation at Olney, - - - - - - 125 

1782. Happy state of his mind, - - - - -127 

1783. Treatment of relations not religious, - - - - 129 
1783 to 1785. Letters to the Rev. J. Mayor, - - 130—137 

Antinomianism, - - - - - - 132 

Letters to the Rev. G. More. — His religious views, 133 — 135 

CHAPTER IX. From the close of his ministry at olney, 

TO THE COMMENCEMENT OF HIS COMMENTARY. 
Situation at Olney, - -- - - -139 

Charge of scolding in the pulpit, - - - 140 — 153 

Ministerial discouragement, ----- 140 

1785. Situation at the Lock proposed, - - - - 141 
On giving and receiving advice, - - - - 142 
Removal to London, ----- 144 
The Lock, - - - - - - ib, 

1 790. Lectureships in Bread-street and Lothbury, - - - 146 
His Sunday labours, ------ 147 

Finances, ------ 145 — 149 

Charge of Arminianism, - - - - - 150 

1786. Sermon on Election and Final Perseverance, - - - ib. 
Society in London, - - - - - 150 — 155 

Trials at the Lock, - - - - - - 153 

Usefulness in the Hospital, - - - - -151 

1787. Pamphlet on the fatal consequences of female Prostitution, ?*&. 
Institution of the Lock Asylum, - - - - 154 

1786, 1787. Visits to Buckinghamshire, and Sermon on Growth in 

Grace, ------- 155 

1786. Correspondence during this period, - - - - 157 
AVith his sisters — Funeral Sermon for Dr. Conyers, - - ib. 
With the Rev. Dr. Ryland, - - - - - 158 
With a late parishioner in Buckinghamshire, - - - 162 

1787. With a friend in Wales, on Welsh Bibles, - - -165 

CHAPTER X. His commentary on the scriptures — death 

OF MRS. SCOTT. 

1787. The work proposed and undertaken, - • - 16S 

1788. Embarrassment and failure of the proprietor, - - - 169 
1792. Losses of the author, - - - - 171—177 
1800 to 1811. Improvements of the work in two new editions, - 171 

Copy-rightdisposedof to the present proprietors, - - 172 

1812,1813. Suit in Chancery, . - . . 172—182 

1788 to 1792. First publication of the work, - - - 174 

Letters relative to it, - - - - - 175 

1791. Discourse on the Death of John Thornton, Esq. - - 176 
Subsequent editions of the Commentary, - - 178 — 181 
Its progress in America, - - - . ISI — 184 

1790. Death of Mrs Scott, - - - - - 186 

Mr. Scott's second marriage, - - - - 187 

Letters, - - - - - - - ib. 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XL Additional particulars from the time 
or finishing his commentary to the eve of his removal 

FROM LONDON. 
Publications — 

1792. On Civil Government and the Duties of Subjects, - - 189 

1793. The Rights of God, - - - - - - ib. 

1796. Answer to Paine's Age of Reason, - - - 189,193 

1792, 1793. Letters to Dr. Ry land— Political Sentiments, - - 190 

1793. Dr. Carey, the Baptist Missionary, - - - " - 193 

Farther Publications — 

1793, 1794. Essays on the most important Subjects in Religion, - 194 

1794.1795. Notes on Bunyan's Pilgrim, - - - - ib, 

1796. Volume of Sermons, - - - - - ib. 

1797. Warrant and Nature of Faith, - - - - ib. 

1802. Four Sermons, ------ ib, 

1798 to 1802. Lectures connected with the state of the times, - ib, 

1798. Observations on the signs and duties of the times, - - 195 
1802. Sermon at the close of the Lectures, - - - - ib. 
1793 to 1795. Fast Sermons, - - , - - - ib. 

1793. Thanksgiving Sermon, - - - - ' ib. 
1801. Sermon before the Church Missionary Society, - - ib, 

1800. Origin of that Society, - - - - - ib. 
Commemoration of Mr. Scott, at the anniversary in 1821, - 196 
Works projected, but never executed, - - - 197 

1796. Voyages between London and Margate - . - 198 

CHAPTER XII. Letters belonging to the period of the 

PRECEDING CHAPTER. 

1794, 1795. Letters to his friends in Northumberland, - - 199 

1795.1796. Letters to his son at college, - - - -202 
Letters on companies and studies, . - - - ib, 

— onjoining religious societies in college, - -204 

on the study of divine truth, - - - - 205 

on the love of God, - - - - 207 

to a lady on ' Hart's Hymns,' - - - 209 

on habits, and the employment of time, - - 211 

1797. ontheRev. Henry Venn, - - - -212 

to Mrs. Webster on the death of her daughters, - ib. 

on Mr. Wilberforce's * Practical View,' - - 214 

on the ministry, and qualifications for it, - ' ib. 

1798. on academical distinctions, - - - - 217 

on education, - - - - - ib, 

on his own religious sentiments, - - « 218 

1801. an his views during a very dangerous illness, - - ib. 

Observations on the last letter, - - - - 221 

CHAPTER XIII. From his accepting the living of aston 
TO the final disposal of his commentary. 
Concluding transactions at Ihe Lock, - - - 223 
1801. The Living of Aston Sandford, - - - - ib. 
Determination to quit the Lock, - - - - 224 
Erection of a parsonage house at Aston, - - - 226 
Elizabeth Moulder — filial duty and charity to the poor remune- 
rated, - - - - ^ - - ' ib. 
Review of his own conduct at the Lock, - . - 228 



CONTENTS. XI 

1803. Removal to Aston, - - - - - - 229 

Conclusion of his own Narrative, _ - - - j&. 

1806 to 1811. Visits to Hull, York, Leeds, - - - - 230 

1809 to 1813. to Bristol, and to Portsmouth, - - - 231 

1813. Visits to Cambridge, - - - - - - ib. 

Publications — 

1803. Funeral Sermon for the Rev. J. Newell, - - - 232 

1804. Sermon before the London Missionary Society, . - - ib, 
1808. Funeral Sermon for the Rev. T. Pentycross, - - ib. 
1810. Sermon on the death of the Missionary, Barneth, - - ib, 

1810. Sermon for the Jews' Society, - - - - ib, 
1811 Address to Missionaries proceeding to Africa, - - ib, 

1812. Sermon for the London Female Penitentiary, - - ib, 

1811. Remarks on the Refutation of Calvinism, - - -233 
1805 to 1808. His collected Works, - - - - ib. 

1807 to 1814. Tuition of Missionaries, - - - - ib. 

Study of Arabic, - - - - - - ib, 

1813. His views with respect to the instruction of Missionaries, - 234 
His zeal for religious and benevolent Institutions, - - 236 
Effects of his ministry at Aston, . _ - - 237 
Chapelry of Gawcott, ----- 238 

CHAPTER XIV. Letters belonging to the period of 

THE PRECEDING CHAPTER. 

L On the work of the ministry, - - - . 239 

II. On the provision for families, and education of children, par- 
ticularly those of ministers, - . - . 245 

III. On. the death of children and near friends, - - 247 

IV. Miscellaneous, - - - - - -254 

CHAPTER XV. From the final disposal of his commen- 
tary TILL HIS last illness. 

1813. Unexpected difficulty in his finances, - - - - 256 
Extraordinary relief, - - - - - 258 

1814. Works on the question between Jews and Christians, - - 262 
Sermon on the Peace — The Slave Trade, - - . 264 
Death of his sister, Mrs. Burgess, - - - _ 265 
of Henry Thornton, Esq. - - _ . 267 

1815. Sermon on the death of Lady Mary Fitzgerald, - '■268 
Index and Concordance to his Bible, - - - - 269 

1815 to* 181 7. Letters on Ecclesiastical Establishments, - - 270 

1815. On fluctuations in a congregation, - - - - ib. 
Second Edition of his ' Remarks,' - - - - 272 

1816. Trials.— On temptation, - - - - . 273 
On concern for spiritual welfare of children, - - ib. 
On the death of an infant grandchild, - - - _ 276 
On cultivating cheerfulness, - - - . 278 
Letters to his sister, Mrs. V^ebster, - - - .. 280 

1817. History ofthe Synod of Dort, - - - - - 281 
Sermon on the death ofthe Princess Charlotte, - - ib, 

1818. Preparation of a stereotype edition of his Bible, - -282 
Letters on submission to God, - - - - 283 
His state at this period, - ^ . _ - 285 
On Dr. Chalmers' farewell Address, - _ - 286 
Occurrences in a visit to Aston, - - - - 287 
Last letter t© Mrs. Webster, - _ - . 283 



-Xll COjSiTENTS. 

1819. Letter to his youngest son, ----- 290 
On the recent ecclesiastical acts and proceedings, - - 291 
Death of his late wife's sister, - - - - 293 

1820. of King George III. - - - . - i6. 

of Mr. Scott's brother, - - » . - 294 

of his sister, Mrs. Webster, - - - i6. 

His state in the summer and autumn of 1820, - - 295 

Last letter to the Rev. T. Webster, - - - - 297 

On the exertions for the spiritual improvement of seamen, - 298 

On Cruden's Concordance, - - - - ' ib. 

On his own Index and Concordance, - - - - 299 

1821. Last letter to Rev. Dr. Ryland, - - - « 300 

to his eldest son, - - - - 301 

to Mrs. Burgess on the death of a daughter, - 302 

to his friend in Northumberland, - - ' ib, 

1818. Letters to a niece after the death of her mother, - - 304 

1819. to a Clergyman on private religious meetings, - 306 

on prayer to the Holy Spirit, - - 308 

1821. Last letter to the Rev. J. Mayor, ... -310 

CHAPTER XVL His last illness and death. 

Introductory observations from the Rev. D. Wilson's Funeral 
Sermons, ------- 312 

March 16 to April. Extracts of letters written from Aston during his 

illness, ------. 314 

His death, - - - - - - - 324 

His funeral, -----. 328 

Impressions left on the minds of the family, - - - 329 

On the occasional depression and gloom experienced by Mr. Scott, 331 
Memorandums made during his illness, - - . 334 

His fears, which were never realized, - - . 351 

CHAPTER XVn. His character — habits, sentiments on 

EDUCATION. 

His character as delineated by Mr. Wilson, - - - 353 

Additional observations, ----- 363 

On his intellectual endowments, - - - - ib- 

On his spirit and temper — particularly deadness to the world, 365 

On his habits, - - - - - - 371 

Letter from John Pearson, Esq. - - - - 374 

Letter from William Wilberforce, Esq. - - - 375 

Mr. Scott's Sentiments on Education, . - - 373 

CHAPTER XVHL His works — his theology — conclusion. 

I. The Force of Truth, and the Commentary, - - -386 
Principles of interpretation adopted in the latter work, - 387 

II. Theological Treatises, ----- 391 

III. Occasional sermons, - - - - - 397 

IV. Works against infidelity and disaffection, - - 399 

V. Other controversial works, . , - - 40O 
His Theology, - - - - - - 406 

Conclusion, -.._-- 408 

Memoir of his eldest daughter, - . , -414 



JLIFE 

OF THE 

REV. THOMAS SCOTT. 



CHAPTER I. 

INCLUDING THE FIRST SIXTEEN YEARS OF HIS LIFE. 

The public are already apprized, that my honoured father 
left behind him a written memoir of his own life, brought 
down to the year 1812. The first sentence of this manu- 
script will explain*, at once, his reason for so doing, and the 
nature of the composition. " As there can be little doubt," 
he says, '^ that, after my decease, something in the way of 
memoir, or narrative, will be published concerning me, to pre- 
vent misinformation, and to supply a few authentic materials, 
I purpose, in the following sheets, to state such facts as seem 
of sufficient importance, leaving it, in general, to others to 
make their observations upon them." 

Hence it would seem, that not so much to write for the pub- 
lic eye, as to furnish '' authentic materials" to those who 
might be induced to do so, was the object which he proposed 
to himself. Accordingly I confess, that, on my first inspection 
of the narrative, it appeared to me, though in all parts grati- 
fying to the writer's immediate friends, yet in many instances 
more minute and familiar than might be suitable for a work, 
to be submitted to the world at large. But, on more delibe- 
rately considering the subject, and reflecting on what the 
public have, in other instances, not only tolerated, but ap- 
proved, I have so far altered my judgment, as to determine to 
keep back very little indeed of what my father has written ; 
and, in committing it to the press, to subject it only to that 
verbal, or otherwise slight correction, which an unrevised 
composition naturally requires. 

It farther appears, from the sentence which has been re- 
cited, that contenting himself with recording leading facts, the 
writer left it to others to make the proper reflections upon them. 

On the whole, therefore, in compliance with what would, 
I hope, have obtained his own sanction, and what, I feel some 
confidence, will meet the wishes of the religious public, I 
shall give the bulk of my father's manuscript in his own 



i4 EARLY LIFE. [CHAP. I^ 

words ; interweave with it pretty copious selections from his 
correspondence, illustrative of its contents ; offer such reflec- 
tions as the several occasions may seem to demand ; and, 
after we shall have lost the help of that original document, 
detail the history of the remaining period of his life, as much 
upon the same plan as the means in my power shall enable 
me to do. I would endeavour every where to keep in view 
the great object for which he lived, and to which, on his dying- 
bed, more entirely, if possible, than before, he approved of 
having devoted his life ; and would humbly desire, that the 
present work may still conduce to the same design : that 
here, as well as in the writings more exclusively his own, he 
may " yet speak" to the glory of God, and to the highest good 
of mankind. 

My father thus records the time and place of his birth. '^ I 
was born on the fourth of February, 1746-7, answering, 
since the change of the style, and the beginning of another 
century, to February 16, 1747. A small farm-house at Bray- 
toft, in Lincolnshire, was the place of my birth. Braytoft is 
five miles from Spilsby, and about six from Skegness, — where 
a well-known bathing place has since been built ; but where, 
in my remembrance, only one solitary public house existed, on 
the seashore. 

'^ My father, John Scott, was a grazier, a man of a small 
and feeble body, but of uncommon energy of mind, and vi- 
gour of intellect ; by which he surmounted, in no common 
degree, the ahnost total want of education. His circum- 
stances were very narrow, and for many years he struggled 
with urgent difficulties. But he rose above them ; and, 
though never affluent, his credit was supported, and he lived 
in more comfortable circumstances to the age of seventy-six 
years. He had thirteen children, ten of whom Hved to ma- 
turity ; and my eldest brother was twenty-three years older 
than my youngest sister. 

^' Concerning my father's family and ancestors, I know 
scarcely any thing. My mother's maiden name was Wayet, 
and she was descended of a family well known and respected, 
for a long time back, at Boston. From her method of ruling 
and teaching her large family, when very young, I derived 
many of my best maxims concerning the education of my 
own children. 

^' Having principally by her been taught to read fluently, 
and to spell accurately, I learned the first elements of Latin at 
Burgh, two miles off, at a school to which, for a while, I went 
as a day scholar. But at eight years of age I was sent to Ben- 



1747 1763.] EARLY LIFE. 15 

nington, a village about four miles north of Boston, where my 
father had a grazing farm, (on which my elder brother and sis- 
ter resided with my father's sister,) that I might attend a school 
in the parish, kept by a clergyman. Here I continued about 
two years ; and, in addition to writing, and the first rudiments 
of arithmetic, I learned a little Latin at my master's desire, who 
thought he saw in me a turn for that kind of learning. He had, 
as I recollect, no other Latin scholar. Exclusive of some in- 
stances of my early proficiency in several kinds of vice, and 
the severe corrections to which this exposed me, I remember 
little of these two years, except a preservation from drowmng, 
in a situation mto which I had rushed in defiance of warning. 
My escape was considered as wonderful, for none of the spec- 
tators was able to give me any aid. 

'-'- Towards the close of these years my eldest brother died 
on board a man of war, I thmk at Portsmouth. My father, 
amidst his difficulties, greatly desired to have a son educated 
for one of the learned professions ; and his eldest son, showing 
a talent for learning, was sent to school, at Scorton, in York- 
shire, (of which place more will be spoken hereafter) and, 
when he had acquired a competent stock of Latin and Greek, 
was bound apprentice to a surgeon and apothecary at Burgh. 
His master dying during the term of his apprenticeship, lefl 
*him his indentures, and, I believe, a small legacy. He then 
went to Lynn, in Norfolk, where he enjoyed far greater advan- 
tages for acquiring professional knowledge ; and, having at- 
tended the hospitals in London for some time, he was induced, 
on the breaking out of war with France, to enter the navy as 
surgeon's mate, determined to push his fortune in that Hne. 
His advance from the lowest rank to that next to a surgeon, to 
which, if he had hved, he would certainly have been very soon 
promoted, was rapid ; and the most sanguine expectations 
were formed. But a vessel of war arriving from abroad with 
a malignant disease among the crew, he, being, as it always 
appeared, a stranger to fear, and enthusiastically eager in the 
pursuit of professional knowledge, requested to be one of those 
who were sent on board of her. There he soon caught the 
disease, which terminated at once his prospects and his life, 
when he was about twenty-four years of age. 

" My father felt this event as, in every way, a most heavy 
affliction. He determined, however, if possible, to have a son 
in the medical profession ; and, as I was thought of the proper 
age, and seemed capable of readily learning Latin, I was select- 
ed. From this time my attention wavS almost entirely directed 
to that language ; and, at different places, 1 got a superficial 
knowledge of several books generally read at schools : which 



16 EARLY LIFE. [GHAP, I, 

gave the appearance of far greater proficiency than I had ac- 
tually made. 

'^ At ten years of age I was sent to Scorton, where my bro- 
ther had been before me ; and there I remained five years with- 
out returning home, or seeing any relation or acquaintance. 
Scorton is a hamlet of the parish of Bolton, where the celebra- 
ted Henry Jenkins, who lived one hundred and sixty-nine years, 
lies buried ; and there is a monumental inscription for him in 
the parish church. This was one hundred and forty miles from 
Braytoft ; five miles from Richmond, and two from Catterick, 
in Yorkshire ; the river Swale running between. There were 
then several turnpike roads in the neighbourhood, and one 
through the village, but f do not remember that I ever saw or 
heard of a stage coach ! — The whole expense of boarding and 
clothing amounted to 1 41. a year ; two guineas were paid for 
teaching, books being found ; there were some extra charges 
for writing, arithmetic, and French, and some expenses for 
medical assistance : but I have often heard my father mention, 
that I cost him 17Z. a year, for five years. I think he must 
have underrated the sum, but I am fully satisfied that 100/. 
more than covered all the charges of the five years ; and this 
was all the cost of my education. Yet I wanted for nothing. 
I had plenty of wholesome food, and, though my clothing was 
rather coarse, I was as tenderly taken care of when sick, which* 
was frequently the case, by the widow, who kept the boarding 
house, and her daughter, as I could have been at home. The 
effect, however, of such long separations from parents, brothers 
and sisters, and other near relations, is far from favourable to 
the forming of the moral and social character, in future life. 

'^ The school of Scorton is, I believe, well endowed : and 
it was at that time of considerable note. During the whole of 
my continuance there, there were above eighty scholars ; seve- 
ral from remote places ; and a few of superior station in socie- 
ty ; whose names I have since met with as occupying rather 
conspicuous situations. The Rev. John Noble was head-mas- 
ter. He had been, in his day, indisputably an able teacher of 
the learned languages : but at this time he was old and 
lethargic ; and, though still assiduous, was most grossly im- 
posed upon by the boys, and by no one more than myself. 

" When I arrived at Scorton, I was asked what Latin books 
I had read ; and my answer induced the usher to overrate my 
proficiency, and to place me in a class much beyond my su- 
perficial attainments. This, however, stimulated me to close 
application ; and it was not very long before I overtook my 
class-mates, and with ease accompanied them. Had I then 
been again pushed forward, I might have been excited to per- 
severing diligence : but, as I could appear with tolerable credit 



t"47 — 1/bJ.J iijj.«.i.i ^" — 

without much application; partly by actual proficiency, and 
rrtlvby imposing on Mr. Noble, under whose care I now 
?an ie • my love of play, and my scarcity of money for selt-.n- 
Sent Expenses, induced me to div.de a great proportion ot 
my time between diversion and helping other boys m their ex- 
cises, for a very scanty remuneration, which ost in gaming 
or "squandered in gratifying my appetite, btul, however, 1 
mad2 considerable progress, and should have been at the head 
of the school, had I continued in it anottier year. But one 
thin- is remarkable, considering what has^since taken place, 
that! while I could translate Latin into English, or English 
into Latin, perhaps more readily and correctly than any other 
boy in the school, I never could compose themes. 1 absolutely 
seemed to have no ideas, when set to work of this kind, either 
then or for some years afterward ; and was even greatly at a 
loss to write a common letter. As for verses, I never wrote 
any except non.en^e-verses, of one kind or other^; which has 
perhaps been the case also of many more proline versifiers 
God had not made me a poet, and I am very thankful that 1 
never attempted to make myself one." ,..,.,., -. 

[n addition to what my father has here stated, I think it suf- 
ficiently curious to be inserted in the history of one who hved 
to compose so many large volumes, that I have often heard 
him remark, that, in his early days, he looked upon few things 
with so much surprise, as upon great books : he felt utterly at 
a loss to conceive, how they had ever been produced. 1 or the 
encouragement, also, of industry and perseverence, I would 
venture to express an opinion, which facts, I think, have sug- 
gested to me, -that to find composition a difficult task is rather 
a promising symptom in young persons, than the contrary. 
Precocity in writing is very often no other than the art of wri- 
ting" without ideas :" while they, who cannot write till they 
have thought, are more likely, in the event, to store their com- 
positions with valuable matter. 

" During these five years," my father proceeds, " I experi- 
enced, as I suppose most young persons do, several remarkable 
preservations in perilous circumstances, generally such as my 
violent and eager spirit pushed me into ; and I also recovered 
from some very dangerous fevers. These thmgs ought to be 
remembered by me with lively gratitude, especially as I then 
scarcely ever thought of God ; but they are not so peculiar as 
to deserve public notice. Perhaps one exception may be ad- 
mitted. Sitting by the fire-side reading, I affronted, by no 
great offence, a school-fellow of as violent passions as myself: 
when, without my being at all aware of his design, he seized a 
large poker, and aimed a blow at my head, which must have 



proved fatal, had not its force been broken by an intervening 
object. As it was, it inflicted a severe wound, which left a 
bald place on the top of my head ever after. 

" My own conduct, at this period, was as immoral as want 
of money, pride and fear of temporal consequences, and a na- 
tural bashfulness, would admit it to be ; except that in one thing 
I retained a sort of habit of my family, and never learned to 
swear or take the name of God in vain, unless sometimes 
when provoked to violent passion. There wsisnofear of God 
before my eyes ; no restraint from the thought of any relations 
watching over and reproving my conduct ; no want of most 
vile examples and prompters ; and little fear of detection by 
the master. In one instance, however, this latter confidence 
failed me, and 1 was put to shame in the face of the whole 
school for robbing an orchard ; and my disgrace was proclaim- 
ed in the neighbourhood : which I mention to show that the 
master, though liable to gross imposition, decidedly opposed 
immorality whenever it was detected. 

" I cannot quit the present subject, without observing the 
dire evils attending large public schools, where the boys are, for 
a very great part of their time, from under the eye of the master, 
however vigilant ; and at a distance from parents and relations, 
and all whose presence ^vould impose restraint upon them. 
Thus they are, in great measure, left to devise and practise 
wickedness together : they embolden one another to break 
through the defence of natural modesty : they teach their juniors 
the vicious practices which they have learned from their se- 
niors : they bestow pains to corrupt each other's principles : 
they often procure the vilest publications : and by the help of 
indexes, and other means, they sometimes become better ac- 
quainted with the most indecent passages of the classic authors 
than with their daily lessons. The most clever, daring, and 
wicked of the elder boys is the hero for the time being, whom 
all, that are near enough to him, envy, imitate, and emulate. 
When he leaves the school his most successful copyist takes his 
place ; and the same scene is reacted again and again. Those 
who have money purchase the company of such as are witty 
and entertaining : and not unfrequently they contract unsuspect- 
ed habits of intemperance and licentiousness. Something may 
indeed be done, in many cases, to counteract these evils : but 
they are in a great degree inseparable from the system, and 
are very inadequately counterbalanced by superior advantages 
for the acquisition of classical learning. 

''On my return from Scorton, in June, 1762, I spent some 
weeks in visiting relations and acquaintance : during which 
time it was a matter of deliberation whether I should not return 



j[ 747— — 1 I DO. J JtiAHijX JjiJrii. 

to Scorton for another year. This I earnestly desired ; for 1 had 
now no books for study or amusement. Some of my school- 
fellows also were about to enter at the University : and they 
excited in me the desire of doing the same : — which 1 fondly 
hoped, after another year, might be accomplished : and which 
I vastly preferred to an apprenticeship. What, however, was 
deemed the more frugal plan, and what most accorded to my 
father's previous intention, was adopted : and, in September of 
that year, I was bound apprentice to a surgeon and apothecary 
at Alford, about eight miles north of Braytoft. The person 
with whom I was placed, was considered as very skilful, and 
had extensive practice : and the situation was thought very ad- 
vantageous : but he was in all respects unprincipled, and, I am 
of opinion, was an infidel. 

'' In this place my habit of attending church, on the Lord's 
day, was first interrupted : for, on whatever other days I might 
have Httle to do, I was almost uniformly employed on Sundays, 
from morning till evening.* 

" Here, however, I might have continued, and have acquired 
professional knowledge ; and, I doubt not, should have met 
with adequate encouragement, in that respect, had I behaved 
well, and rendered myself useful. But my master was a widow- 
er, and was seldom at home except when business required it ; 
so that my leisure time was spent with servants, and the most im- 
proper companions. As to the things which I was required to 
do, no fault was found : but, in other respects, I behaved very ill, 
and gave my master just cause of complaint, and, at least a 
plausible reason for dismissing me. This he accordingly did ; 
and at the end of two months, I returned home in deep disgrace. 
— Thus my father's favourite plan was disappointed, through 
my misconduct ; a family, respected for morality, was disho- 
noured ; and I was left to encounter a degree of displeasure, 
and mortifications resulting from it, which were hard enough in 
themselves to be endured, and to which my unhumbled heart 
was by no means properly disposed to submit. 

" Yet I must, notwithstanding, regard this short season of 
my apprenticeship as among the choicest mercies of my life. 
Not that I learned any wisdom, or self-government, or submis- 
sion by my deep and lasting disgrace and anguish : but for two 
reasons. The first and most important was this ; My master, 

* Medical men are too apt to consider their professional engagements as 
excusing them from attendance on public worship. How much may be done, 
by proper arrangement, to avoid this, may be judged from the fact, that the 
extensive practice of the late Mr. Hey, of Leeds, seldom prevented 
his resorting to church twice on the Sunday. See his Life by John Pear- 
son, Esq. 



JLAKlui 1.111:. I^CHAP. I. 

though himself not only irreligious, but in many respects immo- 
ral, first excited in my mind a serious conviction of sin com- 
mitted against God. Remonstrating with me on one instance 
of my misconduct, he observed, that 1 ought to recollect, it was 
not only displeasing to him, but wicked in the sight of God. — 
This remark produced a new sensation in my soul, which no 
subsequent efforts could destroy ; and proved I am fully satisfi- 
ed, as far as any thing proceeding from man was instrumental 
to it, the primary cause of my subsequent conversion 1 — With 
this circumstance, therefore, my narrative in the • Force of 
Truth' commences." 

Here, in transcribing my father's manuscript, I find it impos- 
sible not to pause, for the purpose of avowing the impression 
which this simple, undisguised narrative makes upon my mind, 
and in which, I persuade myself, 1 shall have the sympathy of 
all those who duly appreciate what the writer afterward be- 
came. The excellent Mr. Cecil, in his usual striking manner, 
remarks, ^' The history of a man's own life is, to himself, the 
most interesting history in the world, next to that of the Scrip- 
tures." He adds, '•'■ None can either understand or feel tlie 
book of his own life like himself" This is undoubtedly true ; 
yet the history of the human mind, in perhaps every instance 
w'here we can fairly come at it, is and must be deeply interest- 
ing to all pious and thinking persons. The reflections suggest- 
ed, by the present narrative, at the period at which we have 
arrived, may be not at all uncommon : yet they are both affect- 
ing and important. What sad marks of depravity may be tra- 
ced even in the earliest periods of life, by those who honestly 
observe themselves, and judge by the holy law of God! — How 
far off from himself does Almighty God often find even his most 
chosen instruments of good, when he first begins to form them 
for his service ! — And by what remarkable, what apparently tri- 
vial and most unexpected means does he frequently w^ork, to 
reclaim them from their wanderings! Who could have expected 
an ungodly, and even infidel man, to use such words in remon- 
strating with an undutiful apprentice ? and much more, who 
could ever have anticipated the effects that were to follow from 
them when so used ? — I subjoin another remark of the same 
dear friend of my father's just quoted : '' The Christian will 
look back throughout eternity with interest and delight on the 
steps and means of his conversion. 'My father said this I 
My mother told me that ! Such an event was sanctified to me. 
In such a place God visited my soul.' These recollections will 
never grow dull and wearisome." — Finally, does any young 
person, contemplating the early aberrations of a Newton, a Ce- 
cil, a Buchanan, or a Scott ; and knowing what good men they 



1747—1763.] EARLY LIFE. 21 

afterward proved, feel tempted to flatter himself that he shall 
live to repent, and thus " have peace," though he should now 
gratify his passions, and walk in the imagination of his own 
heart ?'^ Let him tremble to indulge the forlorn and presump- 
tuous hope. Let him remember, that while the few who are 
reclaimed from youthful depravity to piety, happiness, and use- 
fulness, are recorded, the great multitude who sink into ruin, 
from which there is no return, pass unnoticed. Theirs is the 
ordinary and natural course. They form the rule^ the others 
the exception, — Manasseh, the wicked son of Hezekiah, was 
indeed borne with during a reign of fifty-five years, and, pro- 
bably in the latter part of it, brought to repentance and to God : 
but his son Amon, perhaps presuming on his father's example, 
was cut off at the end of two years, and, for aught that appears, 
died in his sins. 

The account given of the period referred to, in the opening 
of the '' Force of Truth," may be properly introduced in this 
place. It is as follows : " Though I was not educated in what 
is commonly considered as ignorance of God and rehgion, yet, 
till the sixteenth year of my age, I do not remember that I ever 
was under any serious conviction of being a sinner, in danger of 
wrath, or in need of mercy ; nor did I ever during this part of 
my hfe, that I recollect, offer one hearty prayer to God in secret. 
Being alienated from God through the ignorance that was in 
me. I lived without him in the world, and as utterly neglected 
to pay him any voluntary service, as if I had been an atheist 
in principle. 

'^ But about my sixteenth year I began to see that I was a 
sinner. I was indeed a leper in every part, there being ^ no 
health in me :' but, out of many external indications of inward 
depravity, conscience discovered and reproached me with one es- 
pecially ; and T was, for the first time, disquieted with appre- 
hensions of the wrath of an offended God. My attendance at 
the Lord's table was expected about the same time ; and, 
though I was very ignorant of the meaning and end of that 
sacred ordinance, yet this circumstance, uniting with the accu- 
sations of my conscience, brought an awe upon my spirits, and 
interrupted my before undisturbed course of sin. 

'^ Being, however, an utter stranger to the depravity and 
helplessness of fallen nature, I had no doubt that I could amend 
my hfe whenever I pleased. Previously, therefore, to commu- 
nicating, I set about an unwilling reformation ; and, procuring 
a form of prayer, I attempted to pay my secret addresses to the 
Majesty of heaven. Having in this manner silenced my con 

=^ SeeDeut. xxix. 18—21. 



22 EARLY LIFE. [CHAP. I. 

science, I partook of the ordinance. T held my resolutions also, 
and continued my devotions, such as they were, for a short 
time : but they were a weariness and a task to me ; and, temp- 
tations soon returning, I relapsed : so that my prayer-book was 
thrown aside, and no more thought of, till my conscience was 
alarmed by the next warning given for the celebration of the 
Lord's supper. Then the same ground was gone over again, 
and with the same issue. My goodness was like the morning 
dew^ that passeth away : and, loving sin. and disrelishing reli- 
gious duties as much as ever, I returned^ as the sow that is 
washed to her ivalloimng in the mire, 

" With little variation, this was my course of life for nine 
years : but in that time I had such experience of my own 
weakness, and of the superior force of temptation, that I se- 
cretly concluded reformation in my case to be impracticable. 
Can the Ethiopian change his skin^ or the Leopard its spots 'i 
I was experimentally convinced that I .was equally unable, with 
the feeble barrier of resolutions and endeavours to stem the 
torrent of my impetuous inclinations, when swelled by wel- 
come, suitable, and powerful temptations. And; being igno- 
rant that God had reserved this to himself as his own work ; 
and had engaged to do it for the poor skinner, who, feeling his 
own insufficiency, is heartily desirous to have it done by him ; 
I stifled my convictions as well as I could, and put off my re- 
pentance to a more convenient season.''^ 

We now return to the narrative. 

'^ The other benefit derived from my short space of appren- 
ticeship was this : 1 was dismissed for gross misconduct, before 
the whole premium agreed on had been paid ; my father reso- 
lutely refused to pay the remainder : and my master as decided- 
ly refused to give up my indentures till it was paid : and no 
compromise was attempted. The claim of my master was, I 
apprehend, legal : but bis retaining my indentures, after i was 
jBnally dismissed, was an illegal method of enforcing it, for 
which, in the opinion of rather high authority, ample damages 
might have been recovered at the close of the term. The con- 
sequence was, that, being nominally this person's apprentice, 
I could not be placed out with another : and thus I was 
finally excluded from that profession for which 1 was designed, 
and in which probably f should have succeeded as to this world : 
but, in that case, the whole history of my life would have been 
changed." 

My father here subjoins in a note ; " My master lived till af- 
ter I had published the '- Force of Truth,' and, so far from de- 
siring damages from him, I wished and purposed to express my 
gratitude to him, as the instrument of God to me for good, by 



1747—1763.] EARLY LITE. 23 

sending him a book or two accompanied by a letter ; but I pro- 
crastinated till it was too late, w^hich I have ever since regretted. 
Second thoughts in such cases are seldom best." 

It may be added that he feehngly regretted this omission, 
even on his dying bed. — ''• Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, 
do it with thy might," — promptly as well as decidedly. 

But while my father properly acknowledges, with gratitude, 
the good of which Providence made these events the occasion 
to him, it may still fairly be remarked, that the measure he met 
with from man appears to have been hard. To be thus sum- 
marily dismissed from his apprenticeship at the end of two 
months, on the first discovery, as it appears, of an offence, 
even though a high one, — and that by a man who set him the 
example of immorality in his own conduct, and deprived him 
of the opportunity of receiving religious instruction and good 
impressions on the sabbath, was certainly severe treatment. 
His future apparent interests in hfe were also sacrificed, or un- 
warrantably disregarded, amid the contentions of tw^o high-spi- 
rited men. And the degradation and hardships, to which, as 
it will be seen, he was subjected through many succeeding 
years, appear to have been dictated rather by the mortified 
pride of his family, than by any just principle. Certainly, 
though Providence turned it ail for good, and rendered it sub- 
servient to the accomplishment of great events, yet the conduct 
of his father cannot be recommended as a model for imitation 
under similar circumstances. I would farther, however, re- 
mark, that, under the whole even of this severe discipline, he 
was to be congratulated, or even envied, in comparison with 
such young persons as, in cases of similar misconduct, either 
escape detection, or are, by the false tenderness of friends, 
screened from all punishment. 

What follows, considered as describing that which probably 
laid the foundation of diseases under which he suffered to his 
dying day, illustrates the remark, often made, concerning the 
severity with w^hich a righteous God frequently punishes sin. 
even where its eternal consequences are mercifully prevented. 

" Immediately on my return home, T was set to do, as well 
as I could, the most laborious and dirty parts of the w^ork be- 
longing to a grazier. On this I entered at the beginning of 
winter : and as much of my father's farm consisted of low^ 
land, which was often flooded, I was introduced to scenes of 
hardship, and exposed to many dangers from wet and cold, for 
which my previous habits had not prepared me. In conse- 
quence, I w^as frequently ill, and at length suffered such repeat- 
ed and obstinate maladies, (especially the ague, and effects 
following from it,) that my life was more than once despaired 



54 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP CHAP. II. 

of. Yet a kind of indignant, proud self-revenge kept me from 
complaining of hardship ; though of reproach, and even of re- 
proof, I was impatient to the greatest degree of irascibility. 

" I had now many serious thoughts of God, and of eternity, 
and every illness produced a sort of paroxysm of religion ; in 
which having prayed for pardon in an earnest, but ignorant 
manner, I felt satisfied that I should be happy if I died ; though 
as soon as I was restored to health, all my religion vanished as 
the morning cloud I" 

Another paragraph from the " Force of Truth" may farther 
illustrate what is here briefly stated. — '' Being of a reflecting 
turn, and much alone, aware of the uncertainty of life, I was 
disquieted with continual apprehensions, that the more con- 
venient season for repentance to which I looked forward, 
would never arrive ; especially as, through an unconfirmed 
state of health,, I had many warnings, and near prospects of 
death and eternity. For a long time, I entertained no doubt 
that impenitent sinners would be miserable for ever in hell : 
and, at some seasons, such amazing reflections upon this awful 
subject forced themselves into my mind, that I was overpowered 
by them, and my fears became intolerable. At such tim^s my 
extemporary cries for mercy were so earnest and persevering 
that I was scarcely able to give over ; though at others, J lived 
without prayer of any sort. Yet, in my darkest hours, though 
my conscience was awakened to discover more and more 
sinfulness, there remained a hope that I should one day repent 
and turn unto God. If this hope were from myself, it was a 
horrid presumption ; but the event makes me willing to 
acknowledge a persuasion that it was from the Lord : for, had 
it not been for this hope, I should probably have given way to 
temptations, which frequently assaulted me, to put an end to 
my own life, in proud discontent with my lot in this world, 
and in mad despair about another." 



CHAPTER II. 

FR03I HIS APPRENTICESHIP TO HIS ORDINATION. 

The narrative now proceeds : " After a few unsuccessful at- 
tempts, my father gave up all thoughts of placing me out in any 
other way : and for above nine years I was nearly as entire a 
drudge as any servant or labourer in his employ ; and almost 
as little known beyond the circle of immediate neighbours. 
\Iy occupation was generally about the cattle, and particularly, 
in the spr'msf season ^ it consisted in following the ewes great with 



1763— -1772.] TO HIS OKDINATION. 26 

young. In this service I learned habits of hardiness in encoun- 
tering all sorts of weather, (for the worse the weather the more 
needful was it that I should be with the ewes,) which have 
since proved useful to me : and, though I was not kept from 
learning many vices, I w^as out of the way of acquiring habits 
of ease and indulgence, as I should otherwise probably have 
done. 

'^ My situation, however, necessarily led me to associate with 
persons of the lowest station of Hfe, and wholly destitute of 
rehgious principle — in all ranks the grand corrective, and in this 
rank almost the sole restraint upon character and manners. 
These persons tried to please me with flatteries, and to inflame 
still more the indignancy of spirit with which I rebelled against 
the supposed degradation that I suflTered. 1 was induced also, 
not unfrequently, to accompany them in their low-lived riots ; 
which farther embittered the mind of my father respecting me. 
Yet still I not only had seasons of remorse, but, strange to say, 
continued to entertain thoughts of the university, and of the 
clerical profession ! These and various ideas and imaginations 
concerning study, and learning, and even the distinctions of 
learning, formed no small part of my waking dreams, in the 
tedious seasons of solitude which I w^as condemned frequently 
to pass. Hence, in the winter evenings, when not seduced 
from home, and at other times, when I had any leisure, I read 
whatever books I could procure : and I doubt not, should have 
made considerable proficiency, but for two impediments. First, 
my father, though himself remarkably fond of reading, and, for 
his station in life, studious, yet shvays considered my attach- 
ment to books, even when shown only in my leisure hours, as 
wholly inconsistent with diligence in my business ; so that 
frowns and rebukes, and frequent declarations, that he foresaw 
I should come to be a charge to the parish, were my only encou- 
ragement in these pursuits ;-— -which greatly strengthened the 
temptation to spend my leisure time from home, and often, un- 
suspected by him, in low and abandoned company. Perhaps 
I was sometimes engaged with a book, when I ought to have 
been otherwise employed : yet, after I had left him, he gave me 
full credit both for diligence and skill in my services. — My 
other impediment vvas, that, having had books found for my use at 
school, which, of course, I did not bring away with me ; I had 
now scarcely any thing to study relative to the languages, and 
other subjects, on which my heart was set. A few torn Latin 
books I had, and a small imperfect dictionary ; but not one 
Greek book, except an Eton grammar. 

'^ The discontent which corroded my mind during several of 
these years, surpasses ' description ; and it soured my temper 

A, 



26 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP [CHAP. II. 

beyond its natural harshness : thus rendering me a great tempta- 
tion, as well as trial, to my father, and those around me ; to 
whom I generally behaved very disrespectfully, not to say, inso- 
lently. After some time, however, I became rather more re- 
conciled to my lot ; and concluded, that, though for my mis- 
conduct at Alford I was treated more harshly than others of the 
family, I should at length be provided for as a grazier ; and, in 
consequence, waking dreams of other pursuits seemed to be 
less vivid in my mind. 

'^ I had only one surviving brother, and he was well situated 
on a farm : my father was far advanced in life, and not of a 
strong constitution ; and I supposed, as I believe most of the 
family did, that I should succeed to his farm. But at length I 
discovered, (for it was not intended that I should know it,) that 
the lease of this farm was left by will to my brother ; and that 
I was merely to be under-tenant to him for some marsh grazing 
lands, which were without a house, and on which, I knew, a 
family could not be decently maintained. — Indeed it has since 
been rendered indisputably certain, that, during the distresses 
of the American war, no person, so circumstanced, could pos- 
sibly have stood his ground ; and numbers, far better provided 
for than I should have been, became day-labourers to the end 
of life." 

Before we proceed to the consequences of the discovery thus 
made, it may perhaps not be improper just to insert here a brief 
notice of such of my father's family as lived till he himself be- 
came known to the public, and who will be adverted to in sub- 
sequent parts of these memoirs. They were four in number ; 
three sisters, and the brother above mentioned. Margaret, the 
wife of Mr. Thomas Ford, attorney at law, died in London in 
the year 1801 ; Bridget, his youngest sister, wife of Mr. Fran- 
cis Burgess, a manufacturer and alderman of Leicester, died 
there in 1814; and Susannah, the widow of Mr. Thomas 
Webster, of Boston, who was four years older than my father, 
died at the house of her son, the vicar of Oakington, near Cam- 
bridge, in the month of April, 1820. Mrs. Webster will fre- 
quently be mentioned in the following pages under the descrip- 
tion of the elder, and Mrs. Ford under that of the younger 
sister. The brother ( WilUam,) was thirteen years older than my 
father, and died only the year before him, (March, 1820,) at 
Boston. In speaking of him I should be sorry to say any thing 
painful to the feelings of survivors : but there was something so 
remarkably different in the history of the two brothers, that it is 
hardly to be passed over without notice. William was a man 
of powerful understanding, strong health, and comely person. 
The favourite of his family and of the neighbourhood : he set 



1763 — 1772.] TO HIS ordination. 27 

out in life with every advantage. His education was indeed 
plain, yet at eighty years of age he wrote on subjects connect- 
ed with his own hne of life, so as to obtain much applause, and 
to be styled in some periodical pubhcations, '' the Nestor of 
agriculture." Yet, by the indulgence of unsubdued tempers, 
he involved himself in great vexations and troubles ; and was, 
by various means, at length reduced to be dependant for sub- 
sistence, in great part, upon that very younger brother who in 
early hfe had been almost the outcast of his family, and of 
whom it had been foretold that he would come to be " a charge 
to the parish ;" but who, through the happy influence of true 
rehgion upon his whole temper and conduct, was now Hving in 
credit and esteem, '-'- blessed himself, and a blessing"* to all 
around him. So true is it, that '•'• God seeth not as man seeth."t 
Yet the elder brother was by no means regardless of rehgion : 
he took a lively interest in it ; and I would fain hope felt its 
power : but alas ! he was far from taking it up in that right 
manner, and applying it to all the duties of hfe, as his younger 
brother did. 

My father was thus eventually the surviver of the whole 
family, and was for years acknowledged by them all as their 
common friend and benefactor, — But we return from this di- 
gression, into which the mention of his ^' only surviving bro- 
ther," on whom the last will of his father was to render him 
dependant, has led us. He proceeds : 

'^ On this discovery, I determined to make some effort, how- 
ever desperate, to extricate myself : and I only waited for an 
opportunity to declare my determination. Without delay, my 
Greek grammar was studied through and through ; and I made 
what use I could of my Latin books : my father, in the mean 
time, expressing his astonishment at my conduct. 

'^ At length, in April, 1772, I avowed my intention, in al- 
most the worst manner possible. After a long wet day of 
incessant fatigue, I deemed myself, and perhaps with justice, to 
be causelessly and severely blamed, and I gave full vent to my 
indignant passions ; and throwing aside my shepherd's frock, 
declared my purpose no more to resume it. That night, I 
lodged at my brother's, at a little distance : but, in the morning, 
I considered that a large flock of ewes, in yeaning time, had no 
one to look after them, who was competent to the task. I 
therefore returned, and did what was needful ; and then setoff 
for Boston, where a clergyman resided, with whom I had con- 
tracted some acquaintance, by conversing with him on common 

=^ Gen. xii. 2. j 1 Sam. xvi. 7. 



28 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP [CHAP. It. 

matters, when he came to do duty in my brother's village, and 
took refreshment at his house. 

'^ To this clergyman I opened my mind with hesitation and 
trepidation : and nothing could well exceed his astonishment 
when he heard my purpose of attempting to obtain orders. He 
knew me only as a shepherd, somewhat more conversable, per- 
haps, than others in that station, and immediately asked, ' Do 
you know any thing of Latin and Greek ?' I told him I had 
received education, but that for almost ten years I had never 
seen a Greek book, except the grammar. He instantly took 
down a Greek Testament, and put it into my hands ; and with- 
out difficulty I read several verses, giving both the Latin and 
Enghsh rendering of them, according to the custom of our 
school. On this, having strongly expressed his surprise, he 
said, ' Our visitation will be next week ; the Archdeacon, Dr. 
Gordon, will be here ; and, if you will be in the town, I will 
mention you to him, and induce him if I can, to send for you.' 
This being settled, I returned immediately to my father for the 
intervening days ; knowing how much, at that season, he want- 
ed my help, for services which he could no longer perform him- 
self, and was not accustomed to entrust to servants." 

It is certainly gratifying, amid the representations which my 
father has given of his own temper and conduct at this time, 
to meet with these proofs, that, however irascible, he did not 
retain resentment, and quickly returned to some sense of filial 
duty. It may at least gratify the reader's curiosity to peruse 
an extract of a letter written just at this period. It is the earli- 
est but one that is come into my hands. It is dated, ^^ Boston, 
May 17, 1772," (less than a month after first quitting his fa- 
ther,) and is addressed to his sisters. 

" As I expected, I had some difficulty in reconciling my 
friends here to my intended scheme. My uncle Jackson, as 
my godfather, reminded me of my duty to my father. My 
answer was, that I found I could not perform the positive part, I 
must therefore endeavour to perform the negative part : that, 
though in my former conduct I had too often transgressed, yet 
in this particular my conscience acquitted me. My aunt urged 
that, if I had not success, I could turn my hand to nothing else. 
I mentioned a school, for which I think myself well qualified, be- 
ing so able to instruct myself However, after a long and serious 
discourse on the subject, I left them both tolerably well satisfied. 
My cousin Wayet has said nothing to me on the subject. Mrs. 
Wayet endeavoured to rally me out of it : but I must own, I 
thought her arguments weak. She urged the ridicule which poor 
parsons meet with : but surely those who ridicule any one on ac- 
count of his poverty, if he behaves in a manner worthy of his 



1763 — 1772.] TO HIS ORDINATION. 29 

situation, are themselves persons whose opinion I despise. — 
She said, she would not be of any profession, unless at the head 
of it : but this can be no rule for general practice, as some must 
be subordinate. — She mentioned my not being brought up in a 
regular manner : but it is the end, not the means, that is of 
the greatest consequence ; and, if a man be quaUfied, it mat- 
ters not at what place he procured his qualifications. It some- 
times humbles my vanity to hear them all account of me, as of 
one of the lowest order of the profession, not only in point of 
fortune, but also in other particulars. If I know myself, I am 
not deficient in abilities, though I am in the art of rendering 
them conspicuous ; my vanity prompts me to say, that 1 am 
not without hopes of making friends in this way of life, as I 
shall be more conversant with men of letters, who are the com- 
panions I most delight in, and for whose company I shall spare 
no pains to quahfy myself. But let my condition in life be 
what it will, I will endeavour to suit myself to it. Pray heaven 
preserve me independent on any other for a livelihood, and I 
ask no more ! The happiest hours I ever spent have been in 
your company, and the greatest reluctance I feel at this change 
of my situation is, the being separated from a set of sisters, for 
whom I have the most sincere regard." 

He resists '' his heaviness" by the text, '^ Why art thou so 
heavy, O, my soul ? and why art thou so disquieted within me ?" 

'^ At the appointed time," he says in his narrative ; '-^ I re- 
turned to Boston, (where my family was weil known,) and 
readily found access to the Archdeacon, who was also exa- 
mining chaplain to the Bishop of Lincoln, Dr. Green. Before 
him I repeated, in another part of the Greek Testament, what 
I had done at the clergyman's house ; and was asked many 
questions which I answered without the least disguise. The 
Archdeacon concluded the interview, by assuring me that he 
would state my case to the Bishop, and saying that he thought 
it probable his lordship would ordain me. 

'• Thus encouraged, I expended all the little money which I 
could raise, on books ; went to live at Boston ; and applied di- 
ligently to study — especially to improve my knowledge of the 
Greek Testament, (the Gospels in particular,) and to recover, 
or rather to acquire, the ability of composing in Latin. In 
English, I had now for some years been ready in expressing 
my thoughts, and had even been, in some instances, a writer 
in newspapers and magazines. I daily, therefore, wrote in 
Latin, on texts of Scripture, a sort of short sermons, which 
my friend, the clergyman, revised ; and, in return, I afforded 
him very seasonable and welcome assistance in a grammar- 
school, which he taught." — In a note it is here observed. 

3* 



30 FROM. HIS APPRENTIOESHir [CHAP. II. 

" My ability of writing, and the flow of my ideas came to me 
chiefly by corresponding with my sisters, on sentimental and 
other subjects/' — The narrative proceeds : 

" The religious, or rather irreligious, state of my mind, at 
this period has been shown in the ^ Force of Truth :' but re- 
gard to decorum, in many respects, rendered my outward con- 
duct more correct than formerly ; and 1 constantly attended at 
the church, and the Lord's table. 

'^ Every circumstance concurred with my eagerness of spirit 
to render it desirable that matters should be brought to a crisis : 
and those whom alone I could consult, were of opinion, that it 
was as likely that I should obtain ordination on the ensuing 
Trinity Sunday, (June 14,) as at a future period. This was 
not seven weeks from the time of my first leaving my father. 
Having, theretbre, procured a title to a small curacy, (Martin, 
near Horncastle,) I, w^ith great labour, walking above fifty 
miles for the purpose, got my testimonials signed, and other 
things in regular order. I had learned from the Archdeacon, 
that the ordination would be held in London ; and, having sent 
my papers to the Bishop, though I received no answer, I went 
thither at the appointed time. But on my arrival, I was inform- 
ed, that, as my papers had not come in time, and other circum- 
stances were not satisfactory, I was not admitted a candidate. 
In fact, I was most groundlessly suspected of Methodism ! — 
On this I earnestly entreated that his Lordship would allow me 
to speak with him : and he very condescendingly complied 
with my request. He asked me many questions as to the man- 
ner and events of my past life ; my family, my prospects, and 
my reasons for wishing to enter into orders : and I answered 
all with unreserved sincerity and frankness ; which, apart from 
religion, I then thought, and still think, the best prudence. 
He, however, still negatived my urgent request to be admitted 
as a candidate at that ordination ; but he said, that, if I would 
procure my father's consent, and a letter from any beneficed 
lergyman in the neigbourhood, whom he knew, probably he 
>hould admit me at the next ordination. This answer, how- 
ever, induced a kind of despair. I was not personally known 
to half a dozen clergymen of the description required, and my 
attempt was utterly reprobated by every one of them, as in a 
liigh degree presumptuous. I was now in the 26th year of my 
age, wholly without the prospect of a decent subsistence : 
vet my father most decidedly set himself against my design : 
And, if his consent were necessary, there could be, as I thought. 
no hope. — Having, therefore, spent a short time in London, in 
viewing some of its curiosities, (for I had not been there be- 
fore,) and in visiting some relations, in rather a superior sta- 



1763 — 1772.] TO HIS ORDINATION. 3] 

tion ; and, having received froni them some inappropriate coun- 
sel, and, I think, undeserved rebukes, with a few small presents, 
I set out on my journey home. I travelled by a circuitous 
route, a great part of the way on foot, and the rest in various 
vehicles. At length I reached Braytoft, after walking twenty 
miles in the forenoon ; and, having dined, i put off my clerical 
clothes, resumed my shepherd's dress, and sheared eleven large 
sheep in the afternoon !" 

The reader can scarcely fail to be struck with the energy of 
character displayed in this simple narrative, or to be amused 
with the exhibition of it, w^hich the finishing day's work afford- 
ed. Whatever the subject of this memoir did, he " did it with 
his might." 

"This, however," he observes, " was my last labour of the 
kind. My attempt to obtain orders had been w^idely made 
known in the neighbourhood, even much beyond the sphere of 
my personal acquaintance ; and it had excited much attention 
and astonishment, with no small degree of ridicule. This 
raised the spirit of my relations ; and the sentiment expressed 
by my brother, was that of the other branches of the family : 
^ I wish,' said he, ^ my brother had not made the attempt : but 
I cannot bear to have it said, that one of our name undertook 
what he was unable to accomplish !' 

" In consequence of this sensation, my brother and all my 
sisters met by appointment at my father's house ; and, with my 
mother, urged it in the most earnest manner, as his indispensa- 
ble duty, either to consent to my ordination, or to fix me in a 
farm on my own account. I apprehend it was clearly foreseen 
what his concession would be, if he could be induced to con- 
cede at all ; and, accordingly, after much debate, he gave his 
consent in writing to my entering into orders. 

" Thus the difficulty, which 1 regarded as insuperable, was 
in a most unexpected manner surmounted ; and my hopes re- 
viving, I was prepared to struggle over other obstacles, if pos- 
sible. Despairing of obtaining a letter to the Bishop from any 
of the beneficed clergymen, to whom, as living within a few 
miles, I was in some degree known, I applied, without delay, 
to the vicar of Boston, Dr. Calthorp, who was well acquainted 
with my mother and her family, though he had seldom, if ever, 
seen me, till I met the Archdeacon at his house. He behaved 
in the most candid manner ; yet, as a truly conscientious man, 
(which I beheve he really was,) he said justly, that he could not 
sign my testimonial, or state any thing concerning me from his 
own knowledge, except for the short time which had passed 
since I first came to his house : but that he could give a favour- 
able account as to that time ; and if I could procure attesta- 



32 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP [CHAP. II, 

tions from any respectable persons, though not clergymen, he 
would transmit them with his own letter to the Bishop. — Thus 
encouraged, I went again to reside at Boston, where I applied 
diligently to my studies ; but I was greatly frowned on by many 
of my relations ; and I frequently heard the laugh of the boys, as 
I walked about the streets in a brown coat, and with lank hair, 
pointing me out as 'the parson!'^ — if this were a species of 
persecution, it certainly was not for Christ's sake^ or for right- 
eousness' sake: for the account given in the '• Force of Truth' 
sufficiently shows, that 1 was estranged from both at this time* 

" At the ensuing Michaelmas ordination, I was admitted a 
candidate without objection, and was examined at Backden by 
Dr. Gordon. After examination on other matters, he asked 
me numerous questions concerning the nature of miracles ; 
how real miracles might be distinguished from counterfeit 
ones ; and how they proved the truth of the doctrine in support 
of which they were wrought. This was, indeed, almost the 
only theological topic which I had studied with any tolerable 
attention. He, however, perceived that I began to be alarmed, 
and kindly said, ^ You need not be uneasy : I only wished to 
try of what you were capable ; and I perceive that Christianity 
has got an able advocate in you.' — I could not find myself at 
liberty wholly to suppress this remarkable attestation, which, I 
believe, is expressed in exactly the words he used : but had he 
known either my creed, and the state of my heart at that time, 
or whither my subsequent inquiries would ultimately lead me, 
I am persuaded he would not have spoken as he did : though 
he was a far more reasonable and candid man, in respect of 
those who differed from him, even though vilified as Methodists 
and enthusiasts, than is commonly met with." 

From two letters of my father's, addressed to his sisters, and 
dated the one at Buckden, the day on which he was ordained 
deacon, the other at London, March 13, 1773, the day before 
he received priest's orders, it may be recollected, that he pass- 
ed both his examinations with much credit ; and that, had the 
latter ordination taken place in the country, he was to have 
had the honour of preaching before the bishop on the occasion. 

As a specimen of his early correspondence, and a confirma- 
tion of what he has declared concerning his state of mind at 
the time, I am induced to give the former of these letters, — 
premising, however, that it is of a very different character 
from any other that will be inserted in this work. 

"Buckden, September 20, 1772. — Dear Sister, — Success is 

* "All clergymen, at that time, either wore wigs, or had their hair 
di'cssed." 



1763 — 1772.] TO HIS ORDINATIOIS'. 33 

always agreeable ; though there is a success that would have 
been mortifying ; but mine is of the most agreeable sort. Com- 
pliments, high compliments from both Dr. Gordon and my fel- 
low-candidates As I have a little time to spare, I shall endea- 
vour to give you a sketch of my companions here. The first I 
shall mention is a Scotchman, a man of parts. To a sound 
judgment he joins a most ready wit, and an agreeable affabili- 
ty. He tells a story in his Scotch dialect in the most humor- 
ous manner imaginable. He is equally quahfied for serious or 
literary conversation ; and J have contracted something of an 
intimacy with him. His fault is, that he is too sensible of his 
own abilities. — The next is a most solemn ignoramus ; a mem- 
ber of the university, who knows just as much Latin as I did 
when I had been two years at Scorton. He is in deacon's or- 
ders : so, in solemn consultation, we made a theme for him : 
and, as he is a man that bears a good character. Dr. G., I be- 
lieve, knowingly overlooked it. Had we not assisted him, it 
would have gone nigh to have killed him. — The third is a Me- 
thodistical gentleman. He forms a very good contrast to some 
of the company, they being too gay for their business, he so 
sanctified that a song, a came at cards, or a joke, is to him a 
most capital offence. This I could overlook ; but his opinions 
are not mine ; and I had a duel with him, on my first arrival, 
concerning justification by faith alone. I believe each claimed 
the palm of victory : I, however, had the audience on my side. 
A fourth is a good-natured harmless person, no university man, 
who is easily pleased, and endeavours to please those about 
him : so I think I ought to have placed him a little higher in my 
list. — The next is of the same class, but a less able person. — 
The remainder are Oxonian and Cantabrigian bucks, who 
know more of the wine and the girls of their respective univer- 
sities, and of setting dogs, race horses, and guns in the country, 
than of Latin and Greek, or divinity. The Archdeacon sweat- 
ed two of them pretty well ; but I believe they must pass mus- 
ter. In the examination I did w^hat I wish undone, — I assisted 
one of them in his theme, both with thoughts and Latin, whom 
I have since found to be very unfit for what he is going to un- 
dertake : and, without assistance, 1 am certain he would not 

have succeeded You must excuse my vanity, at the present 

I cannot avoid it You may depend on the sincerity of my 

prayers and good wishes for you all, and that I am your affec- 
tionate brother, 

Thomas Scott." 

I have omitted in this letter an allusion to the event which 
he next relates in his narrative. 

'' On the Saturday evening before the ordination, the secre 



34 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP [CHAP. II, 

tary* read to me part of a letter from Mr. (afterward Dr.) Dow- 
biggin, rector of Stoke Goldington and Gayhurst, near New- 
port Pagnell, Bucks, who had married the Bishop's niece. He 
wanted a curate for Stoke, and for Weston-Underwood, a per- 
petual curacy held by another person ; the whole salary 501, 
a year, with some trifling additions. This the secretary pro- 
posed to me ; the bishop being disposed to favour my accepting 
it, if I had no particular attachment to the parish from which I 
had my title. As curacies in Lincolnshire were at that time 
easily obtained, and as several clergymen, by serving three or 
more, had a much larger income than the stipend thus offered, 
I had no pecuniary inducement to accede to the proposal. But 
the idea of appearing as a clergyman, in a neighbourhood where 
I had not been known in any other character, induced me to 
listen to it. I went accordingly from Buckden to Stoke Gol- 
dington, and having agreed with the rector, I returned to my 
relations in Lincolnshne. And now congratulations from every 
quarter took place of censure and ridicule. Of so vast im- 
portance is success or failure in fixing credit or discredit on our 
undertakings ! Had i not previously agreed with Mr. Dowbig- 
gin, [ should probably have now been induced to settle in Lin- 
colnshire ; but consequences of great importance were con- 
nected with my removal into Bucks.'' 

On two of the topics mentioned in this paragraph, short ex- 
tracts may be inserted from his letters. 

"April 12, 1773. — The only advantage! shall reap from 
coming into Bucks is that I shall have the opportunity of seeing 
different places ; otherwise I cannot help regarding it as a dis- 
advantageous step Here are so many expenses, and so little 
to defray them, that I think any of those offers I had in Lincoln- 
shire better — besides the pleasure of being among one's rela- 
tions, which, however your great and daring spirits may despise 
it, I deem a great advantage." 

The other relates to the motive which had led him to decide 
in favour of Buckinghamshire. 

" October 23, 1 772. — I thought, when I got so far from home, 
nobody would know in what way of life I had been, but I was 
mistaken. By many expressions and actions, which I have 
made use of, every one knows that I am well acquainted with 
the grazing business, and my company is much desired by the 
farmers, to discourse with me on our methods of proceeding in 
Lincolnshire : but I perceive not that it is any detriment to me. 
In truth, I am very ill calculated to act the hypocrite. When I 

* Mr. Hodgson, who still held the same office when this memoir was 
written. 



1763 — 1772.J TO HIS ordoatio]\\ .35 

am asked a question which I know how to answer, I cannot pre- 
tend ignorance. Sincerity in words is so natural to me, that 1 
do not think it any merit ; for T can hardly help speaking as 1 
think, though afterward I accuse myself of indiscretion. Dis- 
cretion, in the lesser branches of it, an ingenuous artless per- 
son can hardly practise : and I know not whether it be worth 
his while to attempt it." 

" The Force of Truth," he now observes, " sufficiently ex- 
plains the state of my heart and my conduct, as it must have 
appeared in the sight of God, in this most solemn concern of 
my ordination ; and it suffices here to say, that, considered in 
all respects. I deliberately judge this whole transaction to have 
been the most atrocious wickedness of my life. But I did not, 
at the time, in any degree regard it in this light ; nor did I, till 
long after, feel any remorse of conscience for my prevaricating^ 
if not directly hjing subscriptions and declarations, and all the 
evil of my motives and actions, in the whole concern. — Yet a 
sermon preached by a young man, who was ordained priest at 
the time, but who never appeared among us, on the office and 
duty of a minister, attracted my attention ; met my approba- 
tion ; and I think, on reflection, as of some use to me. His 
name, as I recollect, was Symmonds : I have since heard of him ; 
but know nothing particular of his subsequent history. How- 
ever, 1 feel assured, that good sermons, on such occasions, con- 
cerning the ministerial office and duty, especially if preached by 
seniors, would produce very important effects on young men, 
too often thoughtlessly assuming a sacred character, without 
having ever been seriously admonished of their duty and re- 
sponsibility." 

Some passages from the '^ Force of Truth," may here, again, 
be advantageously placed before the reader, — " At this period," 
says the author — referring to the time when he lived at home 
with his father, subsequently to his apprenticeship — '^ though I 
was the slave of sin, yet my conscience not being pacified, and 
my principles not greatly corrupted, there seemed some hope 
concerning me ; but at length Satan took a very effectual me- 
thod of silencing my convictions, that I might sleep securely in 
my sins ; and justly was I given over to a strong delusion to 
believe a lie, when I held the truth that I did know in unright- 
eousness. I met with a Socinian comment on the Scriptures, 
and greedily drank the poison, because it quieted my fears, 
and flattered my abominable pride. The whole system coin- 
cided exactly with my inclinations, and 'the state of my mind. 
In reading this exposition, sin seemed to lose its native ugliness, 
and to appear a very small and tolerable evil ; man's imper- 
fect obedience seemed to shine with an excellency almost divine ; 



J6 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP [CHAP. 11, 

and God appeared so entirely and necessarily merciful, that he 
could not make any of his creatures miserable, without contra- 
dicting his natural propensity. These things influenced my mind 
so powerfully, that I was enabled to consider myself, notwith- 
standing a few little blemishes, as upon the whole a very wor- 
thy being. At the same time the mysteries of the Gospel be- 
ing explained away, or brought down to the level of man's com- 
prehension, by such proud and corrupt, though specious reason- 
ings ; by acceding to these sentiments, I was, in my own opi- 
nion, in point of understanding and discernment, exalted to a su- 
periority above the generality of mankind ; and I pleased my- 
self in looking down with contempt upon such as were weak 
enough to beUeve the orthodox doctrines. Thus I generally 
soothed my conscience ; and, if at any time I was uneasy at the 
apprehension that I did not thoroughly deserve eternal happi- 
ness, and was not entirely fit for heaven ; the same book afford- 
ed me a soft pillow on v/hich to lull myself to sleep. It argued, 
and I then thought proved, that there were no eternal torments ; 
and it insinuated, that there were no torments, except for noto- 
rious sinners ; and that such as should just fall short of heaven, 
would sink into their original nothing. With this welcome 
scheme I silenced all my fears, and told my accusing con- 
science, that, if I fell short of heaven, I should be annihilated, 
and never be sensible of my loss.... 

^' In this awful state of mind I attempted to obtain admission 
into holy orders!... As far as I understood such controversies, 
I was nearly a Socinian and Pelagian- and wholly an Armini- 

an While I Vt^as preparing for the solemn office, I lived, 

as before, in known sin, and in utter neglect of prayer ; my 
whole preparation consisting of nothing else, than an attention 
to those studies, which were more immediately requisite for 
reputably passing through the previous examination. 

'^ Thus with a heart full of pride and wickedness : my life 
polluted with many unrepented, unforsaken sins ; without one 
cry for mercy, one prayer for direction or assistance, or for a 
blessing upon what i was about to do ; after having concealed 
my real sentiments under the mask of general expressions ; af- 
ter having subscribed articles directly contrary to what I be- 
lieved ; and after having blasphemously declared, in the pre- 
sence of God and of the congregation, in the most solemn^man- 
ner, sealing it with the Lord's supper, that I judged myself to be 
' inw^ardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take that office upon 
me,' — not knowing or believing that there was any Holy Ghost, 
— on September the 20th, 1772, I was ordained a deacon. 

'' For ever blessed be the God of all long-suffering and mer- 
cy, who had patience with such a rebel and blasphemer ; 



1763 — 1772.] TO HIS ordination. 37 

such an irreverent trifler with his Majesty ; and such a presump- 
tuous intruder into his sacred ministry ! I never think of this 
daring wickedness, without being filled with amazement that I 
am out of hell : without adoring that gracious God, who per- 
mitted such an atrocious sinner to live, yea, to serve him, and 
with acceptance, 1 trust, to call him Father, and as his minister 
to speak in his name. Bless the Lord^ O my soul^ and all that 
is within me^ bless his holy name ! Bless the Lord^ O my soul^ 
and forget not all his benefits ! who forgiveth all thy iniquities^ 
and healeth all thy diseases : who redeemeth thy life from de- 
struction; who crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender 
7nercies ! May I fervently love, and very humbly and devoted- 
ly serve that God, who hath multiplied his mercies in abundant- 
ly pardoning my complicated provocations !" 

Seldom, I believe, has a prayer been more strikingly answered, 
than that which my dear father here so humbly and fervently 
offers ; as his subsequent life, during a period of five and forty 
years, amply testified. 

He proceeds, (still in the Force of Truth,) " I had considera- 
ble difficulties to surmount in obtaining admission into the mi- 
nistry, arising from my peculiar circumstances ; which likewise 
rendered my conduct the more inexcusable : and my views, as 
far as I can ascertain them, were these three : a desire of a less 
laborious, and' more comfortable way of procuring a mainte- 
nance, than otherwise T had the prospect of: — the expectation 
of more leisure to employ in reading, of which I was inordi- 
nately fond : — and a proud conceit of my abilities, with a vain- 
glorious imagination, that I should some time distinguish and 
advance myself in the literary world. These were my ruling 
motives in taking this bold step ; motives as opposite to those 
which should influence men to enter on the sacred office, as 
pride is opposite to humility, ambition to contentment in a low 
estate, and a willingness to be the least of all^ and the servant 
of all; as opposite as love of self, of the world, o^ filthy lucre ^ 
and slothful ease, is to the love of God, of souls, and of the la- 
borious work of the ministry. To me, therefore, be the 
vshame of this heinous sin, and to God be all the glory of over- 
ruling it for good, I trust, both to unworthy me, and to hig 
dear people, the church which he hath purchased with his own 
bloorr'' 

Having thus brought down the history of my father's life to 
the period of his ordination, without suppressing one material 
word which he has written upon the subject, it appears to me 

* See farther my fathers Practical Observations on the case of "Korah 
and his company." Numbers x\i. 

4 



38 FKOM HIS APPRENTICESHIP [CHAP. If, 

that there are two points which may need some apology ; mean- 
ing by that term, however, rather defence than excuse. 

First, I know not whether some readers may think, that the 
particulars relative to his admission into holy orders are detailed 
with an unnecessary minuteness. My answer to such an ob- 
jection must be, that I cannot allow the introduction into the 
church of the subject of these memoirs to be put on the same 
footing with every event of the Hke nature. In its consequences 
it has proved to thousands, and I doubt not will prove to thou- 
sands more, of the highest importance. In its circumstances^ 
therefore, which were not common ones, and in themselves 
involve a remarkable display of character, it cannot fail to be 
interesting to all, who take pleasure in tracing the means by 
which providence accomplishes its designs, often rendering the 
evil passions, or evil conduct of man subservient to the display 
of the goodness of God. 

The other point is one which it is of much greater import- 
ance to place in a just light : I mean the severe judgment, as 
many will think it, which my father passes upon himself and 
his own conduct. This extends itself to every part of his life : 
to his early daj^s at school ; to his apprenticeship ; to his con- 
duct while subsequently resident with his father ; and to no 
period, nor to any event, more remarkably than to his taking 
upon himself the sacred office of the ministry. *We read here 
nothing of the levities or the indiscretions of youth, where real 
immoralities are intended; nothing of simple improprieties, 
and the want of greater consideration and more serious thought. 
The offences of the schoolboy are sins against God ; unduti- 
fulness to a parent, even though the conduct of that parent be 
marked by some degree of harshness, is regarded as a crime ; 
and, above all, tampering with solemn subscriptions, and intru- 
ding into the sacred office from ambitious, self-indulgent, and 
other unhallowed motives, is felt as an impiety, which no words 
are strong enough to describe. Yet, after all, some may be 
ready to ask, and not without a degree of justice. What was 
there, at least if one or two exceptions be made, worse than is 
found in thousands, who are never troubled with any such ap- 
prehensions of the enormity of their conduct ? — Now I feel that 
I proceed entirely upon principles which he, whose case gives 
occasion to the inquiry, would sanction, and what is still more 
important, upon the principles of Scripture itself, when I return 
the following answer to this question. Every thing depends 
upon the standard by which we judge. If the current opinions 
of mankind be our standard, then it will be easy for us to 
'•'' make hght of sin," — our own sins, and those of others. But 
if, with the holy character before us — for such he had become 



1763 — 1772.] TO HIS oRmNATiorc. 39 

before he wrote either of his narratives, — we '' enter into the 
sanctuary of God," and judge by the standard of his holy law, 
— especially as it is explained by our blessed Saviour in his 
sermon on the mount, — then the purest and most blameless 
among us will find reason to cry, even with anguish of spirit, 
^^God be merciful to me a sinner !" If we there obtain some 
glimpses of the majesty and glory of the " holy, holy, holy 
Lord God Almighty," then far from shining in our own eyes, 
or comparing ourselves, to our own advantage, with our fellow 
sinners, we shall be prepared, with Job, and David, and Isaiah, 
and Daniel, and St. Peter, and St. Paul,^ and Augustine,! and a 
thousand others who have obtained '-^ a good report," in the an- 
nals of the church to exclaim, " I abhor myself and repent in 
dust and ashes. — Wo is me, I am yndone 1 — Remember not 
against me the sins and offences of my youth !" — And this is 
the true explanation of the judgment which my father passes 
upon his own character and conduct. 

And, with respect to the particular part of the above narra- 
tive, which relates to the views and motives for entering into 
holy orders, let me join its author in earnestly soliciting a most 
serious attention to it, from all those of the clergy whose eye 
it may meet, and who may never yet have taken such solemn 
views, as they will think them, of their own office, and of the 
temper with which it should be undertaken. Many persons of 
Ihis class are known to have been brought to a new, and what I 
must be allowed to call a better sense of the subject, by what 
my father has already laid before the public concerning his 
own case ; and my prayer is, that that case, when thus anew, 
and more fully presented, may be attended with like effects to 
many more. 

The reasons assigned in the former of these two reflections 
induce me not to omit an incid<3nt, yet more minute, but still 
having its place to fill in bringing about the event under consi- 
deration. My father has recorded it as follows. 

'^ One circumstance, very trivial in itself, was so important 
in its consequences, that I am not willing to pass it over. — At the 
sheep-shearing which followed my disgraceful return from AI- 
ford, in 1762, a small ewe lamb, marked with a black spot on the 
side, in rather a pecuHar manner, attracted my notice ; and my 
father, being probably in high good humour on the occasion, 
gave it me ; and, though kept among his sheep, it was branded 

* Job xlii. Psal. xxv. li. Isa. vi. Luke v. S. 1 Tim. i. 12—16. 

t Se*e the affecting and edifying abstract of his confessions in Milner's 
Church History, vol. ii. — [A new edition of this very valuable work is just 
published by Samuel T. Armstrong.] And on the whole subject, see my 
father's Discourse on Repentance. 



10 FROM HIS APPRENTICESHIP, ETC. [cHAP. 11. 

as mine. Though I was always nearly moneyless, and never 
possessed a guinea in my life, till I was above twenty years old, 
I never yielded to the temptation of selling any of the lambs 
which this ewe brought me : so that by management, in ex- 
changing male lambs for young ewes, notwithstanding the loss 
of nine of my little flock, in one year, by the rot, I possessed 
sixty-eight sheep, besides lambs, when I attempted to obtain or- 
ders. These, after many objections, my father purchased for 
6Hl, and this constituted the whole of my fortune. I had not a 
friend in the world who offered to advance me five pounds in 
my exigency ; and I verily believe, that if the success or failure 
of my application had depended upon it, no one would have 
been found able and willing to advance money sufficient for 
my expenses. When my father had granted his consent, I had 
no expectation, and perhaps, after all the vexation which my 
ill behaviour had caused him, I had no fair reason to expect 
that he would give any thing farther. But with this 68Z. I 
bought needful books ; boarded myself for some time at Bos- 
ton ; procured suitable clothes ; paid all travelling expenses, 
and those attending my ordination ; and entered on my cura- 
cies possessed of twenty guineas, — -a sum which, at that time, 
was indeed to me considerable. — On such trivial incidents do 
the most important events depend : without this lamb, and the 
sheep which in this way I acquired, as far as I can see, my 
whole plan of entering into holy orders must have failed." 

From a series of my father's letters to two of his sisters, ex- 
tending from within one month after his quitting Braytoft, in 
April, 1772, till near the close of his life, for which 1 am in- 
debted to my esteemed relative, the Rev. Thomas Webster, 1 
am happy here to confirm, what I before took occasion to in- 
fer, the speedy revival of sentiments of filial duty in his breast, 
whatever irritation he might at the time have felt and express- 
ed. Not a sentence of a disrespectful kind towards his father 
occurs in these free and confidential communications ; but they 
contain many which express great respect and regard. May 
17, 1772, he says, '•'• In my actions to my father, I never offend- 
ed ; in my tvords^ T have too often : but my chief desire is to 
avoid that for the future." — September 18, 1773 : '•• Surely no- 
thing can aflbrd more satisfaction to the considerate breast, than 
to comfort the heart of an aged parent. " This, indeed, is spo- 
ken with especial reference to his mother. — January 5, 1774 ; 
of his father and mother : '' May all the blessings \\e have each 
received from them, (perhaps not the most inconsiderable when 
the most unpalatable,) be tenfold repaid them, here or here- 
after, by the God of mercies I" — July 20, 1774 : ''- To give pain 
or uneasiness to others I hardly bear, but to give pain prenfedi- 



1772 — 1774.] FROM HIS ordination, etc. 41 

tatedly to a parent, even by innocent conduct, wounds my sen- 
sibility and staggers my resolution, even where I think my duty 
is at stake." — What a tender concern he felt for his father, 
when he had himself become more decidedly religious, we may 
have future opportunities of discerning. 

Indeed justice requires the remark, that this whole series of 
letters, from the very first, conveys a more favourable impres- 
sion, than his own report would have led us to expect, of his 
social character. The constant, copious, and confidential cor- 
respondence kept up with his sisters, would, of itself, be a very 
favourable indication upon this subject. But, in addition to 
this, the letters throughout breathe strong affection to all his 
family, and show him to have taken a lively interest in their 
concerns ; and to have been zealous to serve them, as well as 
qualified to do so by great acuteness and sound sense. 



CHAPTER III. 

FROM HIS ORDINATION TO HIS BIARRIAGE. 

We now proceed to contemplate the subject of our memoirs 
in his nev/ and higher character of a minister of the established 
church. 

'' After the ordination, having officiated on two Sundays at 
Martin, in almost an empty church, (for service was very sel- 
dom performed there,) I removed to Stoke Goldington, and 
entered on my new curacies ; boarding with a parishioner for 
twenty guineas a year. 

" My regular services were at Stoke and Weston Underwood t 
but my rector was' sub-dean of Lincoln ; and when he went 
thither into residence he procured other supplies for Weston, 
and I officiated at Gayhurst, where George Wrighte, Esq. had a 
seat. This soon brought me acquainted with the family. Mr. 
W. was a descendant of Sir Nathan Wrighte, Lord Keeper in 
the reign of Queen Anne : and Mrs. W, was the only daughter 
of Sir Joseph Jekyll, Master of the Rolls, by Lady Anne, daugh- 
ter of the Earl of Hahfax. They were wealthy and liberal, 
and lived in a most hospitable manner. They had been mar- 
ried several years, but had only one son, quite a child, who was 
considered as heir to large estates possessed by relatives, who 
had no children. 

'• Having several times dined at the house on Sundays, after 
my second service, I was repeatedly invited to dine with par- 
ties on other occasions : and, notwithstanding mv rusticitv. I 

4# 



42 FROM niS ORDINATIOH [ClIAP. Illv 

received so many invitations from different quarters, that I was 
compelled to be almost rude, in order to secure time for those 
studies to which I now applied with indefatigable zeal. 

^^ After a time Mr. W. employed me to put his library in or- 
der, and to make a catalogue of the books ; which, as consisting 
of the libraries of both families, were numerous and valuable, 
but in a state of the utmost confusion. I had no pecuniary re- 
muneration; but a considerable number of duplicates, sufficient 
to recompense my labour. This service I contrived to render 
without much entrenching on my hours of study. 

^^ Thus commenced an acquaintance, which produced im- 
portant effects on my future life. 

'' Soon after my ordination I learned, that clergymen, not 
educated at the universitity, might enter at Cambridge, and with- 
out residence, might after nine years take the degree of Bache- 
lor of Divinity. This was represented to me as one step to- 
wards distinctions and advantages, to which I was sufficiently 
alive. Having therefore obtained from a relation a letter to 
Dr. Caryll, Master of Jesus College, I went to Cambridge ; 
and, on exhibiting in several circles my stock of Latin and Greek, 
now somewhat increased, I met with that kind and degree of 
applause, which abundantly elated my inexperienced heart. I 
then entered at Clare-Hall, where my name stood for several 
years : but though the expense did not much exceed four gui- 
neas a year, when I had a family, I found it more than I could 
conveniently spare ; and, my expectations and desire of pre- 
ferments and distinctions being superseded by earnestness in 
the grand concerns of vital rehgion, I took my name oif the 
boards. In this, I have for some years doubted whether I 
acted wisely.'' 

Some other topics connected with my father's progress may 
here properly receive illustration from his 'printed account of 
himself, and from his private letters. 

His studies^ as they were at this time the object nearest his 
heart, may be first noticed. ^' No sooner," he tells us in the 
'^ Force of Truth," '•^ was I fixed in a curacy, than with close ap- 
plication I sat down to the study of the learned languages, and 
such other subjects as I considered most needful in order to lay 
the foundation of my future advancement. And O that I were 
now as diligent in serving God, as I was then in serving self 
and ambition ! I spared no pains, I shunned, as much as I 
well could, all acquaintance and diversions, and retrenched 
from my usual hours of sleep, that 1 might keep moro closely 
to this business," 

My memory much deceives me if I have not repeatedly heard 
my father state, that at the period of his visit to Cambridge, 
(about the month of June, 1773, nine months after his ordina- 



1772 — 1774.] TO HIS MARRiAGi:. 43 

tion,) he had read through the entire works of Josephus in the 
original Greek ; which would of itself be no ordinary proof of 
his dihgence, in the circumstances in which he was placed. 

But the following extract of a letter to one of his sisters, da- 
ted September 18, 1773, will present the best picture of the 
ardour of his mind in "these pursuits at the time referred to.—" 1 
have for some time pursued my studies with assiduity, but I have 
only lately got to pursue them with method. I am now about 
three hours in the day engaged in the Hebrew. The books J 
use are a Hebrew Bible, Grammars, and Lexicons, the noted 
Septuagint, or Greek translation so much talked of, and a com- 
ment — would it were my father's !" Alas ! his father's was 
the Socinian commentary, noticed in the " Force of Truth," as 
the source from which he had already imbibed so much poison. 
— " I began at the first chapter of Genesis, and I intend to go 
through the whole Bible in that manner. You will see the ma- 
nifold advantage of thus reading the Scriptures. The original 
text, a Greek translation two thousand years old and above, our. 
translation, and comments, read carefully, and compared to- 
gether, w^ord by word, cannot fail to give a deep insight into the 
sense of the Scriptures ; and at the same time two languages 
are unitedly improving. The same I am doing in the Greek 
and profane history. I am reading old Herodotus in the origi- 
nal, in Latin, and in English. For each book read, whether 
ancient or modern history, I have my maps laid before me, and 
trace each incident by the map ; and in some degree also fix 
the chronology. So that, though the languages seem my prin- 
cipal study, history, geography, chronology, divinity, go hand 
in hand. Neither is logic neglected. I have set about that in 
some degree ; not the dry scholastic forms, but the usual art of 
tracing our judgments to their origin, and building our reasons 
or inferences on due foundations ; or the art of arguing justly 
from well-grounded principles. — In the writing way I have jusi 
now begun a very arduous task, but, I hope, not too arduous. 
I have fixed upon our Saviour's sermon on the mount, and have 
undertaken in a course ef sermons to go through it. My de- 
sign is to show, that in that short discourse is comprehended 
every Christian virtue, every moral duty ; that it is not, as is 
generally apprehended, a loose set of detached maxims, but 
a regular, consistent system of morality. What I shall make 
of it I know not : but I think I shall, by well considering each 
article, comparing it with other parts of Scripture, and the 
situation of man in this world, find out many beauties, at least 
to me before undiscovered. I have already found in it far more 
than ever I observed before, or than any authors I have con- 
sulted have noticed. I will assure you the propriety of each 



14 FROM HIS ORDINATION [CHAP. Ill, 

?sentence, the wisdom, the thorough knowledge of the human 
heart, appear to be most admirable. — If, in going through it in 
the manner I propose, and have engaged to do, in a course of 
sermons, I should please myself and others, I shall perhaps 
throw the whole into some other form, and communicate it to 
the public. At least I made choice of th*e subject not without 
having some such design in view ; and my utmost care and 
attention shall be used, to try whether I cannot make it deser- 
ving of a share of the public attention. 

"You now see in what manner I spend my time. I find my taste 
for study grow on me every day. I only fear I shall be, like 
the miser, too covetous. In fact, I really grudge every hour 
that I employ otherwise. Others go out by choice, and stay at 
home by constraint : but I ever stay at home by choice, and go 
out because I am persuaded it is necessary. In every other 
expense I am grown a miser : I take every method to save : but 
here I am prodigal. No cost do I in the least grudge to pro- 
• cure advantageous methods of pursuing my studies. So far is a 
multiplicity of studies, a diversity of pursuits, from overburden- 
ing my memory, that by exercising it, I find it in a high degree 
more retentive ; as well as the comprehending faculty more 
quick. — Nothing can give greater satisfaction than these con- 
siderations do. I proceed with alacrity ; I think with expedi- 
tion. Of the Hebrew some twenty weeks ago I knew not a let- 
ter : and I have nov/ read through one hundred and nineteen of 
the Psalms, and twenty-three chapters of Genesis ; and com- 
monly now read two chapters in the time above mentioned, tra- 
cing every word to its original, unfolding every verbal difficulty. 
— But enough : I know to whom I write. I am sensible that 
these things will give you some pleasure in the perusal, and that 
you will overlook any spice of vanity which may appear." 

What were the writer's more mature sentiments on the view- 
above taken of the sermon on the mount, may be seen in his 
commentary, particularly on Matt. vii. 24 — 27. He there re- 
marks ; " Most certainly the unchangeable God never meant to 
recommend one part of his revealed will, by disparaging ano- 
ther This sermon, doubtless, contains the grand out- 
lines of Christian jyraciice^ and none who, on Christian princi^ 
ples^ observe to do according to it, will come short of salvation. 
But Christian principles or doctrines^ must be learned from 
other parts of the sacred oracles." 

In another letter about three months afterward, he says : 
"' The giver of every good gift has made my interest, my plea- 
sure, and my duty, as it were, all dependant on one another. 
My pursuits of the advantages of life, and of credit, are 
thrown into such a channel, that, while they form my highest 



1772 — 1774.] TO HIS marriage. 45 

gratification^ they best promote that more important business I 
am upon ; and will succeed or fail in proportion as I do my 
duty, and contribute my share towards the good of mankind." 

From this extract it appears, that he was not so immersed in 
his literary pursuits, as altogether to forget ^^ that more impor- 
tant business," which claimed his attention as a parochial mi- 
nister. And repeated proofs occur, even from the first, of what 
many, at leasts would esteem considerable professional dili- 
gence ; though he was as yet very much a str«anger to the right 
means of promoting the spiritual interests of men, and to the 
true spring of a Christian minister's activity ;* and though, in 
his'^ Force of Truth," he will only give himself credit, for having 
" attended just enough to the public duties of his station, to 
support a decent character," which he deemed '^ subservient 
to his main design." 

Previously, however, to adducing any of the proofs referred 
to, we may advert to the report which he makes of the state of 
the country into which he had now removed, and, in particular, 
of his own parishes. It is, upon the whole, very unfavourable. 
" The country," he says, ^^ is pleasant ; the villages large and 
populous ; but the people poor,t ignorant and idle. Half of 
them have little more knowledge, save the art of lace-making, 
than they were born with. There are no schools any where 
for^ the poor ; and they have no means of instruction but at 
church, where the greater part never come." — The latter clause 
apphes especially to Stoke, the inhabitants of vi^hich parish he 
estimates at seven or eight hundred. — Of their religion, he says, 
^' those that have any are almost all Methodists and fanatics, 
of one sort or other ; and for my part 1 regard them as the best 
portion of my parish, for any religion must be better than none." 
— His other parish of Weston, he thought, " afforded a better 
prospect," and appeared •• more regular and religious." " The 
greater part, indeed, were Roman Catholics, and many Metho- 
dists : however," he says, ^' they all seem to be of some rehgion, 
and I have my regular congregation as constantly as [ go. . . . 
Taking the whole country, T think it remarkably poor and ig- 
norant ; though within fifty miles of the metropohs of the most 
polished country in the world : but yet what part of the world is 
it in which one meets not with sensible and agreeable people ?" 

Such was the scene of service first assigned to my father as a 
clergyman, and nearly such that in which he spent the first 
thirteen years of his ministerial life. T now present those tra- 
ces which remain of his earlier labours in it. 



* See 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. 

t He notes Is. M. a day, without meat, as the highest wages in harvest 
time. 



46 FROM HIS ORDINATION [CIIAP. Ill, 

From the first, the pains he took in preparation for the pul- 
pit appear to have been exemplary. In his first letter fi*om 
Stoke, in October, 1772, he says, '^ Sermons I write two a 
week :" and again, half a year afterward, " I have no spare 
time, having written full seven sermons, each thirty-five minutes 
long, in the three weeks since my return from London," — 
where he had taken priest's orders. Such diligence appears to 
have been a sort of elementary ingredient of hi» character, and 
certainly it gave a promise of his future success. May it not 
also suggest a salutary admonition to many, who, it may be 
hoped, are actuated by purer principles than at that time influ- 
enced the subject of these memoirs ? Their views, be it sup- 
posed, are more elevated, but do they call forth even equal ex- 
ertions ? 

In the same letter he laments, that ^^ after preaching two of 
the most forcible discourses in his power," he had been able to 
collect only ^' twenty-six or twenty-seven communicants." — 
And in another letter, of rather earlier date, he says, "• Whether 
I shall be able to make any reformation among my parishioners, 
I much doubt ; but I tell them their duty pretty freely." 

As we proceed forward, I trust, we find the desire of doing 
good gradually gathering strength. — It may be remarked that 
my father quitted his residence at Stoke in November, 1773, 
and lodged at Weston from that time till his marriage, some- 
what more than a year afterward. — From Weston, he writes, 
January 5, 1774, " I wonder at people thinking they cannot do 
good. The circle that I move in at present is so contracted, 
that the circumference almost touches the centre ;. yet I should 
belie my own heart, should I say that I never had it in my 
power to do good. I hope, (for God alone knows the heart,) 
that I really have been instrumental, in my calhng, towards in- 
stilling better principles into the minds of some of my flock. — 
This, at least, is my desire : from this I promise myself present 
satisfaction, and something in future of more consequence. 
Since I have got to Weston, I have made a point of reading 
prayers on the festivals, though I have nothing allowed for it. 
The parish are in great part Roman Catholics, and I would not 
have it said, that they have all the rehgion. Where the piety 
is rational, and free from the superstition we expressly blame, 

I would show them, that we do not disregard it A very 

pretty congregation comes constantly to church, and I do not 
grudge my trouble. I vyould also read prayers on Wednesday 
and Friday ; but I might, by carrying it too far, and too hastily, 
do less good." 

The last extract which I shall introduce, is dated a year la- 
ter, at Stoke, whither he had returned on his marriage. — ^^ Sa- 



2772 — 1774.] to nis marriage. 47 

turday evening is appropriated to catechizing the children of 
the parish, who come in great numbers for instruction. There 
are, therefore, but dve other evenings, and it is a retired week 
indeed, if one of them be not engaged. Now in this time" — 
the evenings, for his mornings were otherw^ise occupied — ^^ the 
plan I have laid down requires me to compose or transcribe, two 
sermons, almost constantly. . . . 

" Stoke is an ignorant, and for that reason a wicked place : 
I would wish to do something to remove both the cause and the 
effect. They are also as poor as they are ignorant and bad. 
Now, assisting their bodily wants is the best means to prepare 
the way for assisting their other wants. But my station in 
life prevents my doing much in that on my own account. But, 
by means of my intimacy at Mr. Wrighte's, I am not totally 
destitute of opportunity. When any person is sick, I make it 
my business to visit him, both in my pastoral function, and as a 
friend to inquire into his disorder and circumstances ; which 
done, I represent the case to Mrs. W., who has not hitherto fail- 
ed to consider one so represented. This prepares the way for 
good advice and instruction, (which I do not withhold,) and 
also renders others more willing to attend to me. — A parcel of 
little books on various plain practical subjects had lain at Mr. 
W.'s some time. 1 begged to have the disposal of them, and 
having given some away, I told the receivers to send any other 
persons to me who wished for like tracts. I soon had custom- 
ers enough, and distributed a considerable number about the 
parish. I intend to make broad hints for some more : — Next I 
have undertaken to explain the catechism in a course of ser- 
mons, and also to expound it in a more summary manner to 
the children who attend for this purpose ; being persuaded that 
as much good may be done in forming the minds of youth, and 
instilling into them moral and religious truth, as in preaching 
to the more advanced in years .... This is the plan I have 
laid : and to execute it to my own satisfaction engrosses no 
small proportion of my time and attention. I do not suppose 

, w^hen he returns, will like me the better for the care I 

take : but as I do what I consider my duty, I am noways anx- 
ious about it At the present, I am entirely satisfied with 

my lot, and my portion of enjoyment ; and my religion bids 
me not be solicitous about futurity." 

But we have here outstripped the regular course of events, 
and must return to occurrences, some, at least, of which con- 
tributed to the improvement, pretty clearly indicated by this 
extract to have taken place in his ministerial character. 

In June, 1773, he lost a sister, who, by her marriage, had 
been placed in not a very favourable situation. This event ap- 



48 FROM HIS onDiNATioisr [chap. in. 1| 

pears to have affected him very much. He thus speaks of it in 
his reply to his elder sister, who had communicated the infor- 
mation to him : 

" To describe to you the emotions of my mind, on the receipt 
of your letter, the mixed passions and feelings with which re- 
flection furnished me, would require more art than my pen pos- 
sesses. A tenderness inseparable from affection arose, and over 
and over I read your letter, and as oft bedewed it with tears ; 
not of unmixed sorrow, but of a tender regret, mollified with 
some not unpleasing reflections ; yet the damp that it has cast 
on my spirits, will require time and reason to dissipate it. The 
situation in which I was placed during the younger part of my 
life made me, till within these few years, love her the best of all 
my brothers and sisters. Neither have I ever experienced a di- 
minution of that affection ; only as my judgment increased, 
with it my regard for the other branches of the family wonder- 
fully increased also. — Sincerly I thank you, dear sister, for what 
you said in regard to my going to see her, (when in Lincoln- 
shire,) which fixed my wavering resolution ; had I not gone, an 
almost incurable stab had been given to my peace." 

He expresses a purpose to take upon him the education of 
her younger son, to whom he was godfather. He considered 
this as a duty incumbent upon him. " Now it has pleased 
God," he says, ^' to take the only parent who was at all likely 
to supersede my care, it certainly belongs to me, to see that he 
be instructed in those things, which I promised in his name, as 
soon as he is capable of learning them." — Accordingly he 
some time afterward received this nephew into his family ; and, 
scanty as his own means were, supported him, till at a proper 
age he bound him apprentice to the business of a grocer, 
which he still follows in London. 

The next incident recorded in the narrative appears to have 
taken place about the same period. 

" While I resided at Stoke, the brother of the person with 
whom I boarded, an apothecary at Olney, often called ; and, 
finding me conversable, discussed with me a variety of subjects. 
Among the rest, he mentioned Mr. Newton as a very singular 
character." — It can hardly be needful to say, that this was the 
Rev. John Newton, then curate of Olney, afterward rector of 

St. Mary Woolnoth, London. His name stands blank (Mr. ) 

in the editions of the " Force of Truth" which have hitherto been 
published. He had been curate of Olney since his ordination 
in 1764. — " He gave Mr. N. full credit for blameless and be- 
nevolent conduct, and for diligence as a minister ; but he was 
' a Methodist and an enthusiast to a very high degree.' ' I can- 
not,' said the apothecary, ^ tell what judgment to form of his 



1772 — 1774.] TO nis marriage. 49 

preaching ; it is like nothing which I ever heard : I wish you 
would come and hear him, and give me your opinion. He 
preaches on Thursday evening : come and dine with me, and 
we will go to church together.' This was accordingly settled 
and executed. I sat fronting the pulpit, and verily thought Mr. 
N. looked full on me when he came into the desk : and, when 
he named his text, to my great astonishment it was this, Then 
Saul^ (who is also called Paul^) filled with the Holy Ghost ^ set 
his eyes on him^ and said^ Ofull of all svbtlety and all mischiefs 
thou child of the devil^ thou enemy to all righteousness^ wilt 
thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord ? (Acts 
xii. 9, 10.) As I knew that he preached extempore^ 1 took it 
for granted that he had chosen the text purposely on my account. 
He observed, indeed, that ministers in the present day, not be- 
ing under any immediate or infallible influence of the Holy 
Spirit, ought not to imitate the decided and severe language of 
the apostle ; and he then undertook to show what were the 
right ways of the Lord, and to point out the wickedness and 
danger of persisting in endeavours to pervert or oppose them. 
But I thought his doctrine abstruse, imaginative, and irrational ; 
and his manner uncouth ; and the impression, that, though 
Elymas was named, I was intended, abode with me for a long 
time ; nor was it wholly effaced till I discovered, some years 
afterward, that he was regularly expounding the Acts of the 
Apostles, and that this passage came in course, that evening ; 
and that, in fact, he neither saw nor thought of me. The ideai 
however, that I was aimed at, neither alarmed nor irritated me ; 
but, at first, served me as a subject of merriment ; and, after- 
ward, when I knew him better, but had not yet obtained the 
just explanation of the case, it appeared to me unaccountable. 
Yet, alas ! at that time, the passage was but too appropriate 
to my character and conduct. — After this I never heard Mr. N. 
preach, till my creed accorded with his in all the great outlines." 

The '^ Force of Truth," however, records somewhat in Mr. 
N.'s example, which soon after this time proved more useful to 
my father than his preaching, and no doubt essentially conduced 
to that increased diligence in pastoral duties, which we have 
already contemplated. 

"In January, 1774," he there states, "two of my parishioners, 
a man and his wife, lay at the point of death. I had heard of 
the circumstance : but according to my general custom, not be- 
ing sent for, I took no notice of it ; till one evening, the woman 
being now dead, and the man dying, I heard that my neighbour 
Mr. N. had been several times to visit them. Immediately my 
conscience reproached me with being shamefully negligent, in 
sitting at home, within a ie\Y doors of dying persons, my gene- 

5 



50 FR03I HIS ORDliS'ATION [CHAP. lit. 

ral hearers, and never go to visit them. Directly it occurred 
to me, that, whatever contempt I might have for Mr. N.'s doc- 
trines, I must acknowledge his practice to be more consistent 
with the ministerial character than my own. He must have 
more zeal and love for souls than I had, or he would not have 
walked so far to visit and supply my lack of care to those, who. 
as far as I was concerned, might have been left to perish in 
their sins. — This reflection affected me so much, that, without 
delay, and very earnestly, yea, with tears, I besought the Lord 
to forgive my past neglect ; and I resolved thenceforth to be 
more attentive to this duty ; which resolution, though at first 
formed in ignorant dependence on my own strength, I have by 
divine grace been enabled hitherto to keep. — T went immediate- 
ly to visit the surviver : and the affecting sight of one person 
already dead, and another expiring in the same chamber, served 
more deeply to impress my serious convictions : so that from 
that time I have constantly visited the sick of my parishes, as 
far as I have had opportunity, and have endeavoured to the best 
of my knowledge, to perform that essential part of a parish 
minister's duty." 

This occurred at Weston, where ray father then resided ; and 
from a letter written at the same time it appears, that the man 
and his wife referred to, having lived forty years together, were 
both buried together in the same grave. — We return to the 
narrative. 

" As curate of Weston Underwood, I became acquainted with 
the family of the Higgins' ; from whom I received many favours 
as long as I held that curacy. Bartholomew Higgins, Esq. se- 
nior, was the friend mentioned in the ' Force of Truth,' who in- 
duced me to read the conclusion of Bishop Burnett's History 
of his own Time. He also expressed dissatisfaction with my 
general doctrines, as not sufficiently evangelical ; and he inti- 
mated topics on which he wished me to speak more fully. But 
when afterward I became more thoroughly in earnest in apply- 
ing evangelical truth to practical purposes, he thought I went 
too far ; especially when I advanced the sentiments called Cal- 
vinistic. But this subject will again come under notice more 
regularly hereafter." 

This perusal of that part of Burnett's history, which relates 
to the clergy, was attended with important effects, which the 
'^ Force of Truth," thus explains : ^' I was considerably instruct- 
ed and impressed by it : I was convinced that my entrance into 
the ministry had been the result of very wrong motives ; was 
preceded by a very unsuitable preparation, and accompanied 
with very improper conduct. Some uneasiness was also exci- 
ted in my mind concerning my neglect of the important duties 



1772 1774.] TO HIS MARRIAGE. ^ 51 

of that high calling ; and, though I was enslaved by sin, and too 
much engaged in other studies, and in love with this present 
world, to relinquish my flattering pursuit of reputation and pre- 
ferment, and to change the course of my life, studies, and em- 
ployments ; yet by intervals 1 experienced desires and pur- 
poses, at some future period to devote myself wholly to the 
work of the ministry, in the manner to which he exhorts the 
clergy At this time I lived without any secret reli- 
gion My convictions," however, *•• would no longer be 

silenced or appeased" and, ^^ I v/as enabled to enter upon 

a form of devotion. Formal enough indeed it was in some re- 
spects, for I neither knew that Mediator, through whom, nor 
that Spirit by whom, prayers are offered up with acceptance 
unto the Father. Yet, though utterly in the dark as to the true 
and living way to the throne of grace, I am persuaded there 
were even then seasons, vAien I was enabled to rise above a 
mere form, and to offer petitions so far spiritual as to be ac- 
cepted and answered." 

Thus was my father's mind evidently moving, even at this 
time, towards that happy consummation at which it at length 
arrived ; and thus did a succession of apparently accidental 
circumstances conspire to advance his progress. But for the 
present our attention is called to another subject, thus intro» 
duced in his narrative. 

^" All my views of advancing myself in the world seemed to 
require, that I should for some time, at least, live unmarried : 
but I had always resolved, and avowed my resolution, to mar- 
ry as soon as I should have the prospect of maintaining a farai» 
ly : and no ambitious projects altered that purpose. After 
many merciful disappointments, as I have since known them to 
be, I became acquainted with Miss Jane Kell — whom I first 
met at a christening, and won her money at cards ! She was of 
a family in reputable circumstances at Hexham, in Northum- 
berland :" but her father, having never profited by the wise 
man's ^dmomiion ^He that hatetli surety ship is sure^ impoverished 
himself to pay other men's debts : and his daughter Jane, '^ hav- 
ing acquired competent skill in various departments, entered, 
at an early age, into the service of Lady Anne Jekyll. She 
was now Mrs. Wrighte's house-keeper, and had continued so 
long in the family, with high approbation, that she was respect- 
ed almost as a relative. On every conversation I had with her 
she rose in my esteem ; and, after rather more hesitation than 
was usual with me, I opened my mind to her by letter, which 
at first produced some rather singular incidents ; but at length 
terminated in our marriage, December 5, 1774." 

I shall here take the liberty of saying, that though my dear 



52 FROM HIS ORDINATION [CHAP. III. 

mother was not found in an elevated station, she was, through- 
out life, and in all circumstances in which she ever was placed, 
a "• help meet" for him to whom she was united. She was one 
of those thoroughly prudent, disinterested, friendly, cheerful, 
and kind persons, who conciliate the esteem of all that converse 
with them, whether superiors, inferiors, or equals. After all 
the abatement which it may be thought requisite to make in 
the report of an admirer^ I believe there was much justice in 
the account which my father gave of her to his sister, July 20, 
1774 : '''- Whom nature has blessed with a variety of her choicest 
gifts, — sense, prudence, sensibility : who has had many advan- 
tages of education, has read much, and is fit to appear with 
credit in any company : who has a heart fraught with the most 
virtuous and generous sentiments, and has given such proofs of 
it, as are fully conclusive, and which, coming to my knowledge 
by such means as contain something of the marvellous, cannot 
be disputed. No woman in the world is better adapted for the 
management of a family." 

One of the proofs of generosity referred to, was her declining 
my father's first proposals, though perfectly agreeable to her, 
because she believed the connexion would be ^' disadvantageous 
to him." This he learned directly from Mrs. Wrighte, with- 
out Mrs. W.'s being able, either previously, or at the time she 
told him the fact, to divine who was the person that had been 
refused, 

I possess one, and onlyone letter of her writing, — the first to 
which she subscribed her newly-acquired name : and, as it pre- 
sents a glimpse of the Lincolnshire family, viewed, it must be 
confessed, under favourable circumstances, and will at least ex- 
hibit the amiable temper of the writer's mind, I shall venture to 
insert a part of it. 

^'Braytoft, December 13, 1774. — My dear mother, let me 
once more entreat the favour of your intercession to our heaven- 
ly Father, for the continuance of happiness to your now happy 
daughter. You are already informed, that Monday, the fifth, 
gave you a son and me a husband, of whose goodness I could 
say no more than my paper will hold ; so I shall cut it short, by 
assuring you that he is every thing I wish. My dear friend 
has likewise told you that we are now in Lincolnshire, and 
at present in the house with his w^orthy father and mother. 
What would I give for a head and pen equal to the task of de- 
scribing to you this agreeable pair, and theii^ worthy children. 
Indeed it is comfortable to see Mr. and Mrs. Scott sit round by 
their sons and daughters and grand children, all equally sensi- 
ble and good. . . . They really treat me in a manner as if 
their son, brother, or nephew had married a person equal in 



1772 — 1774.] TO HIS MARRiAGi:. 63 

fortune to his merits. God grant that I may continue deserving 
of their kindness and relationship ! . . . . Mr. and Mrs. Wrighte 
accompanied me to church — though it was the first time of her 
being out to walk after a long and dangerous illness : and Mr. 
W. gave me away.*. . . I am in every respect your dutiful and 
affectionate daughter, J. Scott. 

" This is the first time I have made use of this respectable 
name." 

The next thing which occurs in my father's narrative, after 
the mention of his marriage, is a statement of his finances and 
prospects at the time. After some demur, I have determined 
to allow him unreservedly to lay this also, and other passages 
of the same kind, before the reader, because they both illustrate 
his character, and tend to enforce one of the great lessons 
which his history suggests — the duty and safety of implicitly 
trusting in Providence, notwithstanding a provision apparently 
very inadequate, while we devote ourselves to the duties of our 
station, as the servants t)f God. 

''What my wife had saved," he says, '' (which might have 
been more than double what it was, had not her liberality, 
especially to her aged mother, deducted from it,) with the pre- 
sents she received, purchased us sufficient furniture. My in- 
come, with Busby's Lectures once in three years, amounted to 
nearly £60. I had also lately been engaged by Mr. Wrighte 
to teach his son the first rudiments of learning—going over to 
his house, at three miles distance, every day for the purpose ; 
for w^hich he paid me £30 a year ; and I had farther a good 
prospect of receiving a few pupils into my house, when settled. 
So that, taking into account the comparative cheapness of living 
at that time, I have seldom in subsequent years had a fairer 
prospect of adequate support ; except as I have learned to trust 
in Him for temporal provision, as well as eternal salvation, who 
clothes the lilies and feeds the birds of the air : of which I at 
that time knew little. 

" The union thus formed proved to me, in all respects, an in^ 
expressible mercy. Even at the time I had some confused 
sense of the goodness of God in it ; and, in a poor Wind way, 
attempted both to thank him for it, and to purpose devoting 
myself to his service in the work of the ministry ; though I 
then scarcely knew any thing of that sacred service. 

'' So far was the step I had taken from losing me any favour 
with my former friends, as I had previously apprehended it 
might, that it seemed to raise me in their estimation, for having, 
as they expressed it, the good sense to discern and value what 

* Mr. and Mrs. W. also stood sponsors for her elder children. 
6* 



54 FROM HIS OKDINATION [cHAP. lit, 

was highly estimable in one situated as my wife had been ; and, 
had no material change taken place in my religious sentiments 
and conduct, I am persuaded I should have met with steady 
encouragement in my plans. Mr. Wrighte especially, with 
manifest cordiahty, took vigorous measures to procure me a 
living ; and as he had, in previously disposing of some prefer- 
ments in his gift, obliged more than one of the superior clergy- 
he entertained no doubt of success. 

^' Neither my wife nor myself had been much in the way of 
religious people, according to my present interpretation of that 
term ; neither of us understood the grand outlines of the gos- 
pel : yet we were both impressed with a strong sense of the 
truth and importance of the Christian religion in a general view 
of it ; but her impressions were the deeper, and had far less, 
from false princi[iles and evil habits, to counteract them. Even 
before we were fixed in a settled habitation, the thought seem- 
ed to occur to us both, almost at the same time, that we ought 
to pray together ; and accordingly I read some prayers from a 
book : and Vv'hen, with a female servant, we entered on a tem- 
porary dwelling of our own, I immediately began family worship, 
though I had never lived in any family where it was practised, 
nor even been present at such a service, except once, which 
was in the house of a dissenting minister.^ 

" At first I only used a form of prayer from a manual be- 
longing to my wife. After a little time I read a chapter of the 
Bible before the prayer : and as my views of religion gradually 
improved, I aimed at something more evangelical, and exchanged 
my manual for Jenks' Devotions. But had I duly considered 
the subject, the Common Prayer Book of our Church, with 
a little arrangement, would have supplied me with far more 
suitable words, than any book of the kind I had then seen, or 
have ever yet seen. Merely, indeed, to read the common prayer, 
as appointed for public worship, must, in general, be both in- 
adequate, inappropriate, and in many things superfluous, to a 
family ; but a selection of collects, parts of collects, and extracts 
from the Litany, varied as circumstances should require, I am 
now fully convinced, might be rendered, in all respects, pre- 
ferable to any other forms which have been published. 

" I afterward wrote, on particular occasions, such prayers 
as I thought proper to be added to the form ; and, at length, I 
was gradually led to adopt the method of extemporary prayer, 
which I judged, and do still judge, far better for domestic wor- 
ship, than any forms can be ; both as admitting of adaptation 
to the varying circumstances of families, and the cases of friends 

* "The Rev. Mr. Bull, of Ne^vport, Pagnell'^ 



1772 — 1774.] TO HIS MARRIAGE, 55 

and relatives, to be remembered in our prayers ; and also as 
giving scope to more enlargement in intercession according to 
occurring events, for all sorts and conditions of men. By de- 
grees also I proceeded to expound, as well as read the Scrip- 
tures to my family. 

'• From this beginning, I do not know that, during more than 
thirty-eight years, the daily worship of God in my family, morn- 
ing and evening, has ever been interrupted, except when I was 
ill, or from home : and, indeed, when that has been the case, 
some one of my household has generally supplied my place. 

'-'" On this I look back with peculiar gratitude, as one grand 
means of my uncommon measure of domestic comfort, and of 
bringing down on my children the blessings which God has gra- 
ciously bestowed upon them. And, though the time which I have 
allotted to this service has been, for many years, far longer than 
is generally deemed sufficient or expedient, yet, by a punctual 
• observance of an appointed hour, and the adjustment of domestic 
affairs to the plan, as known and invariable, no inconvenience 
worthy of notice has resulted from it. Nor have I, as many 
complain in excuse for great brevity, found my domestics in 
general show symptoms of weariness and inattention. — My 
evening worship is much shorter than that of the morning ; and 
for many years past it has taken place, in all ordinary cases, at 
a pretty early hour ; which, where it can be practised, appears 
much preferable. — In numerous instances I have had visitants, 
especially relatives, to whom I clearly perceived that my fami- 
ly worship was disagreeable ; and some who would not so much 
as by a change of posture profess to join in our prayers : but I 
never once omitted the service, or altered the method of it on 
that account ; and, in some cases, the parties have been soften- 
ed into a more cordial concurrence with us." 

My dear father having here dwelt at some length on one of 
the most remarkable features of his domestic economy, it may 
' be advisable to despatch the subject, in what would otherwise 
have been a premature place for its introduction. I apprehend 
no reflecting person can have enjoyed the advantage of being 
repeatedly present at his morning family worship, without be- 
ing forcibly struck with it. His expositions on these occasions 
frequently rose above what any written comment can be ex- 
pected to reach, in copiousness, minute apphcation, spirit, and 
often elevation of thought. Many times I have wished that his 
picture could have been taken while he was expounding to his 
family. I have never seen his soul more thrown into his coun- 
tenance than on these occasions. Every topic, almost, of 
doctrine or duty here came successively under review, as he 
passed through the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament, 



56 FKOM HIS ORDINATION, ETC. [CHAP. lir^ 

in order ; and the very familiarity with which they were illustra- 
ted, and brought down to all the occurrences of life, made the 
exposition doubly interesting and useful. To what passed here, 
I am disposed especially to attribute it, that not a servant could 
spend any time in his family, and attend to what was delivered, 
without becoming better informed in Christian doctrine, and 
better instructed in the detail of the duties and proprieties of life, 
than religious persons in a much superior station are usually 
found to be. — And then the prayer, which followed, was cer- 
tainly one of the finest specimens of " supplication, interces- 
sion, thanksgiving," for those present, and for "all men," that 
can be conceived. Such enlargements, both as to the subjects 
and the matter of the petitions, I have not elsewhere heard. 
The Scripture, which had been read and commented upon, 
usually gave the direction to the former part of this act of de- 
votion : and here he had by habit and meditation, and by en- 
tering at the time, into the spirit of the passage, acquired a 
readiness in seizing every part of it in all its bearings, and turn- 
ing it into matter of supplication, which brought it g^ain under 
review in the most edifying manner. Whatever was peculiar 
in the circumstances of any persons present, w^as then brought 
before " the throne of the heavenly grace," in a manner which 
showed at once the piety, the wisdom, and the benevolence of 
Mm who led the service, and often proved affecting, never, I 
think, painful to the parties concerned. From those present, 
and all the branches of the family, with their immediate con- 
nexions and friends, he launched forth to his parishioners 
and people ; to the various congregations and divisions of 
^^ Christ's holy catholic church ;" to all the *•' ministers of God's 
holy word and sacraments," and all '^ seminaries of learning 
and religious education ;" to his country and all orders of men in 
church and state, — especially all those " v.ho, in this transitory 
life, are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversi- 
ty ;" to the surrounding nations, with a particular reference to 
passing events ; to the extension of Christ's kingdom in the 
world ; to the state of Jews, heathens, and Mohammedans ; to 
all the various exertions now making to instruct the ignorant, 
to reclaim tlie vicious, to relieve tfie oppressed, and to bring on 
those happy days when " the knowledge of the Lord shall fill 
the earth as the waters cover the seas ;" and so for '' the whole 
world of mankind." His petitions relative to these, and al- 
most every other topic that could be named, were often most 
appropriate and striking, — v/hile he implored and pleaded for 
the raising up in all nations of " kings that should resemble 
David, and Hezekiah, and Josiah, and prove reformers of their 
people, as well as nursing fathers of the church ; for govcr- 



1773 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS, ETC. 67 

nors, in all the distant provinces of our own and otiier empires, 
disinterested, zealous and unimpeachable, like Daniel and Ne- 
hemiah ; for bishops, throughout the church, like Timothy and 
Titus." — Indeed the subject of his remarkable spirit of inter- 
cessory prayer must hereafter be again adverted to. Here, there- 
fore, I would conclude with remarking upon the whole, that to 
his constant and edifying observance of family worship, in con- 
nexion with the steady, consistent spirit and conduct, which, 
notwithstanding imperfections incident to human nature, they 
could not fail to remark in him, is, I am persuaded, very much 
to be traced, not only the blessing of God which, I trust, has 
descended on his own family, but the farther striking and im- 
portant fact, — that in very few instances has a servant, or a 
young person, or indeed any person, passed any length of time 
under his roof, without appearing to be brought permanently 
under the influence of religious principle. I consider him as 
having been singularly blessed in this respect. And yet it was 
not much his practice to address himself closely and minutely, 
as some haye done w4th very good eifect, to such persons indi- 
vidually. It was not so much by preaching directly to them, 
as by hving before them ; making an edifying use of incidents 
and occasions ; and being so constantly instructive, devout, and 
benevolent in family worship ; that, under the blessing of God, 
he produced so striking an impression upon them. This added 
tenfold force to whatever else they heard from him in his pub- 
lic administrations. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE GREAT CHA^^GE OF IIIS RELIGIOUS VIEW S\ 

" Within a few months after my marriage, I was led unex- 
pectedly to exchange my curacy of Stoke for thatof Ravenstone, 
the next village. This was done at the instance of the vicar of 
the latter place, the Rev. Mr. Chapman, an unmarried man, 
seventy years of age. He had hitherto kept no curate, but had 
occasionally applied to me for assistance ; and now, as he wish- 
ed to engage one, and I w^as at this time reputable, and not sus- 
pected of '- methodism,' he offered me his curacy, with a salary 
of £40 a year ; £15 more than I received for Stoke. The 
reason of his change of plan was unknown to me at the time : 
but I afterward found it to be a very considerable accession of 
fortune, which had come to him in rather a singular manner. — 
A distant relation, a retail grocer in London, had, by saving 
habits, amassed about £12,000. On the approach of death, he 



58 CHANGE OF HIS [OIIAP. IV, 

sent for Mr. Charles Higgins, (one of the Weston family, and 
afterward Sheriff of London,) the head partner in the whole- 
sale house wdth which he had dealt, and proposed to leave the 
whole to him. Mr. H. being a man of much generosity of 
mind, resolutely refused to accept it : and urged that it ought 
to go to the relations, however distant. The man, how^ever, 
declared that he would die intestate, if Mr. H. would not be- 
come his heir ; and he kept his word. In consequence, after 
engaging in some htigation, and buying off some individuals 
who might have been troublesome, the vicar of Ravenstone, 
with his sister, a maiden lady, still more advanced in age, 
who lived with him, inherited the whole property. On the 
proposition which he made to me, all advance of salary at 
Stoke being declined, I became his curate." 

My father removed to Ravenstone soon after Midsummer, 
1775 ; but this was previously to his becoming curate of the 
parish. 

"At this place," he says, "I resided about two years, and 
it proved as it were, a Bethel^ to me. Here I read the 
Scriptures and prayed. Here I sought, and I trust, found, 
in a considerable measure, the knowledge of the truth as 
it is in Jesus, I was not indeed brought to say with 
unwavering voice, as Thomas did of old. My Lord and 
my God ; but I learned to count all hut loss for the ex- 
cellency of the knowledge of Christ, Here first I was 
made the instrument of bringing several persons earnestly to 
ask the all important question. What must I do to he sa- 
ved ? and here I learned, in some degree, to give the scrip- 
tural answer, Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt 
he saved,^^ 

Alluding to this period, he observed in a sermon preached 
at Aston, June 25, 1818, of which the Rev. Daniel Wilson has 
preserved and printed some memorandums : "• It is above forty 
years since God of his mercy brought down my stubborn heart 
to true repentance. The first sermon I preached afterward 
was from Gal. iii. 22, But the Scripture hath concluded all un- 
der sin,, that the promise by faith of Jesus Christ might he given 
to them that helieve. This very discourse was the means of 
bringing some of my people to feel their danger, and to come 
to me, saying. What shall I do to he saved ? when I hardly 
knew how to answer the question. Begin, my brethren, and 
continue in the same way. Show the people that they arc 
concluded under sin. Tell them plainly of their lost condition. 
Till they feel this, nothing is done. Then exhibit to them the 

* Gen. xxviii. 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 59 

promise by faith of Jesus Christ : this will heal the broken 
heart." 

He proceeds ; '^ I did not, however, in my own case, enter so 
deeply into the practical use of the truths to which 1 acceded, 
as might have been expected : but, in many things which I 
have since considered as wholly indefensible, I conformed to 
the world, and, by so doing, was, in great measure, sheltered 
from scorn, and reproach." But in these things the narrative in 
the 'Force of Truth,' from April, 1776, to about the same 
period of 1777, must be referred to. 

'^ Here likewise my two eldest children were born, Anne, 
who died at the age of four years and a half, and of w^ioni far- 
ther notice will be hereafter taken ; and John, still living." 

Soon after his removal to Ravenstone, we find him thus an- 
ticipating the death of another married sister. 

'' Though I was somewhat concerned for you, yet this was all 
absorbed in the concern I have always felt on my poor sister 
Gibbons' account, whenever I have thought of her since I re- 
ceived your letter. I can never reflect on her fate, and the 
cause of it, without the most feehng anxiety. I have long 
thought of writing to her, but have been hindered by the sup- 
position of my letter finding her departed from this troublesome 
scene. . . . May the Almighty supply her with a plentiful por- 
tion of his grace, &c. ... This most sincere and earnest 
prayer I do not fail daily to present at the throne of grace." 

Ravenstone, it may be observed, was always the favourite 
scene of my father's ministerial services Here he enjoyed 
greater comfort, and here more visible success attended his 
pastoral labours, in proportion to the time of their continuance, 
than in any subsequent situation. '*• Here," he says in another 
part of the narrative, which may more conveniently be introdu- 
ced in this place, '' a considerable number of persons, \vho had 
previously been ignorant and careless about religion, became 
consistent and zealous Christians ; and a general seriousness 
and attention were excited, beyond any thing Vv'hich I have 
since witnessed." This account, however, of bis usefulness 
at Ravenstone, takes in not only the period of his residence 
there, but that also of his subsequent residence at Yv^eston, till 
the year 1781, during which time be retained the curacy of 
Ravenstone. 

The progress of his mind at the important period which has 
been mentioned from the spring of the year 1775, to that of 
1777, is so amply, and in so satisfactory a manner, detailed in 
the " Force of Truth," that I should have contented myself, as 
he has done, with merely referring the reader to that work, were 
3t not for the very interesting additional lights which his letters 



60 CIIAIS'GE OF HIS [CHAP. IV, 

to his sisters, now in my hands, throw on certain principal 
points of the history. For the sake of properly introducing 
them, I shall make some extracts from the work just mentioned* 

'' It was at this time that my correspondence with Mr. New- 
ton commenced. At a visitation, May 1775, we exchanged a 
few words on a controverted subject, in the room among the 
clergy, which I beheve drew many eyes upon us. At that time 
he prudently declined the discourse, but a day or two after, he 
sent me a short note, with a little book for my perusal. This 
was the very thing I wanted, and I gladly embraced the oppor- 
tunity, which, according to my wishes, seemed now to offer ; — 
God knoweth, with no inconsiderable expectations, that my 
arguments would prove irresistibly convincing, and that I 
should have the honour of rescuing a well-meaning person from 
his enthusiastical delusions. ... I wrote him a long letter, pur- 
posing to draw from him such avowal and explanation of his 
sentiments as might introduce a controversial discussion of our 
religious differences. The event by no means answered my ex- 
pectation : he returned a very friendly and long answer to my 
letter ; in which he carefully avoided the mention of those doc- 
trines, which he knew would offend me ; he declared, that he 
believed me to be one who feared God, and was under the 
teaching of his Holy Spirit : that he gladly accepted my offer 
of friendship, and was no ways inclined to dictate to me ; but 
that, leaving me to the guidance of the Lord, he would be 
glad, as occasion served from time to time, to bear testimony 
to the truths of the gospel, and to communicate his sentiments 
to me, on any subject, with all the confidence of friendship. 

'^ In this manner our correspondence began, and it was con- 
tinued in the interchange of nine or ten letters, until December 
the same year. Throughout I held my purpose, and he his. I 
made use of every endeavour to draw him into controversy, and 
filled my letters with definitions, inquiries, arguments, objec- 
tions, and consequences, requiring explicit answers. He, on 
the other Iiand, shunned every thing controversial, as much as 
possible, and filled his letters with the most useful, and least of- 
fensive instructions, except that now and then he dropped hints 
concerning the necessity, the true nature, and the efficacy of 
faith, and the manner in which it was to be sought, and obtain- 
ed ; and concerning some other matters, suited, as he judged, to 
help me forward in my inquiry after truth. But they very 
much offended my prejudices, afforded me matter of disputa- 
tion, and at that time were of little use to me. . . . When I 
could not obtain my end, at my instance the correspondence 
was dropped ; . . . . and our acquaintance was, for a season, al- 
most wholly broken off. Fop a long time we seldom met, and 



1775—1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 61 

then only interchanged a few words on general topics of con- 
versation. Yet he all along persevered in telling me, to my no 
small offence, that I should accede one day to his rehgious prin- 
ciples ; that he had stood on my ground, and that I should 
stand on his : and he constantly informed his friends, that, 
though slowly, I was surely feeling my way to the knowledge 
of the truth. So clearly could he discern the dawnings of grace 
in my soul, amidst all the darkness of depraved nature, and my 
obstinate rebellion against the will of God, — This expectation 
was principally grounded on my conduct in the following cir- 
cumstances. Immediately after the commencement of our cor- 
respondence, in May, 1775, while my thoughts were much en- 
grossed by some hopes of preferment ; one Sunday, during the 
time of divine service, when the psalm was named, I opened the 
prayer-book to turn to it : but {accidentally shall I say, or provi- 
dentially ^) I opened upon the Articles of Religion ; and the 
eighth, respecting the authority and warrant of the Athanasian 
creed, immediately engaged my attention. My disbelief of the 
doctrine of a trinity of coequal persons in the unity of the God- 
head, and my pretensions to candour, both combined to excite 
my hatred to this creed : for which reasons, I had been accus- 
tomed to speak of it with contempt, and to neglect reading it 
officially. No sooner, therefore, did T read the words, ' That 
it was to be thoroughly received, and believed ; for that it might 
be proved by most certain warrants of holy scripture ;' than 
my mind was greatly impressed and affected. The matter of 
subscription immediately occurred to my thoughts, and from 
that moment I conceived such scruples about it, that, till my 
view of the whole system of Christianity was entirely changed, 
they remained insuperable 

'' At length, after a violent conflict between interest and 
conscience, I made known to my patron my scruples, and ray 
determination not to subscribe. Thus my views of preferment 
were deliberately given up, and with an increasing family I was 
left, as far as mere human prudence could discern, with little 
other prospect than that of poverty and distress. My objec- 
tions to the Articles were, as I now see, groundless ; much 
self-sufficiency, undue warmth of temper, and obstinacy, were 
betrayed in the management of this affair, for which 1 ought to 
be humbled. But my adherence to the dictates of my con- 
science, and holding fast my integrity in such trying circum- 
stances, I never did, and, I trust, never shall repent." 

Letters written in the crisis of such a conffict, v#]iich is known 
to have had such an issue, and laying open the whole soul of 
the writer, cannot fail to interest any one, who takes pleasure 
in-studying the workings of the human mind, and the operations 

6 



62 CHANGE OF IHS [CHAP. IV- 

of divine grace upon the heart. And such are the letters 
which I now proceed to lay before the reader : only premising, 
that Mr. Newton's correspondence with my father commences 
with this very question of subscription, and that, from a passage 
in the manuscript of his first letter, omitted in the printed co- 
pies, it appears that my father had informed him of his having 
published, or at least transmitted for publication, the paper 
which will be found here referred to. 

The following is an extract of a letter from my father to his 
elder sister, dated at Stoke, July 12, 1775 — in the interval be- 
tween Mr. N.'s first and second letters to him. 

" Both from information of what passes around me and my 
own experience, I am convinced that this is a fluctuating scene 
of restless agitation ; and that the only way to enjoy any tole- 
rable degree of comfort, is by a constant endeavour to keep a 
conscience void of offence^ and to attain to something of an in- 
difference in regard to this world, fully trusting in God, that he 
will make all things work together for good to them that fear 

him, and endeavour before all things to obey him As this 

is written to one that knows what trouble is, . . . so is it written 
hy one, who among blessings which he has received from the 
God of goodness, has also experienced troubles, and does so 
yet ; and is now more likely than ever to meet with trials, more 

than in general fall to the share of man We should 

learn to place a more firm and steady dependence on the wisdom 
and goodness of our heavenly friend and father, and more firmly 
to believe those promises he has made us ; so as not to be 
driven from our confidence in the day of trial and gloomy dis- 
appointment, being assured that he will never forsake us, if we 
forsake not him. ... As Christians we should remember that 
troubles are the touchstone of our faith, patience, meekness, 
and resignation ; and, if well supported, will work for us a 
more exceeding toeight of glory, . . . 

" I now turn to my own affairs. I had rather not speak 
concerning them but for two things : first, lest you should hear 
of them from others ; and, second, lest you should think I had 
not that confidence in you that I have in others. I know I 
cannot speak of them without saying a great deal, and perhaps 
at last without saying so much as to excuse me in your mind 
from censure. — I have had too ambitious and interested views, 
and have placed my expectations and desires too much on the 
emoluments of the ministry, and too little on the labours. In 
my studies aad schemes I have more anxiously consulted by 
what means 1 might advance myself, than how I might make 
myself useful as a minister of the Gospel. But it has pleased 
Providence, that, by means of those very studies on which 1 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS, 63 

founded my hopes of advancement, but which have been carried 
on in a direction much different than I intended, I have arrived 
at a disposition of heart, and a train of thinking, which are to« 
tally incompatible with all my hopes of preferment. In one 
word, I have discovered the importance of that trust which is 
committed to me ; what is the extent of that duty it requires ; 
and how it ought to be performed : and I fmd it something in- 
conceivably different from what one would suppose it to be, 
from the too general, and well nigh universal conduct of those 
to whom it is committed. I have also discovered what true 
unadulterated Christianity is, and find it not exactly what even 
our creeds and articles represent it. I have arrived, in point 
of conscience, at perhaps an unnecessary scrupulousness, inso- 
much that I cannot, either through hopes of gain and favour, or 
through fear of loss and censure, do a thing that my heart dis- 
approves. I have arrived at a critical nicety in examining and 
weighing expressions, and comparing one thing with another, 
which I endeavoured to attain as a step to advancement ; but 
the Supreme Director has turned it into an insurmountable ob- 
stacle. Within sight, as it were, of preferment, 1 have met 
with what has put a period to my present expectations, and 
has caused me formally to renounce them." — He then states 
his disapprobation of many things in the Articles, and particu- 
larly his utter repugnance to the Athanasian creed, both its doc« 
trine and its damnatory clauses ; and then proceeds : '*• This is 
the trial that is now upon me. If by subscription be meant an 
avowed assent to the truth of every proposition contained in 
"what we subscribe, I can never subscribe these Articles, with- 
out telling a most audacious lie in the face of God, in a solemn 
and important matter of religion, for the sake of sordid lucre. 
Such a lie would wound my conscience, and forfeit His favour. 
in whose favour is life : and riches would make me but poor 
amends. On the other hand if I resolve not to subscribe, I must 
at present renounce all my aspiring hopes, and be content to be 
a poor, and perhaps despised, curate, and censured into the 
bargain. But yet this is the far better side of the question ; 
for God has promised, and I dare believe, that he that seeketk 
the kingdom of God and his righteousness^ shall be supplied 
with what He sees that he wants ; that he, who leaves any 
worldly treasure /or his sake and the gospeVs^ shall be amply 
rewarded even in this life : and that him, who is not ashamed 
of Christy and of his words^ he will not be ashamed to own ; and 
the contrary. I have, therefore, chosen this side of the ques- 
tion, and hope by God's assistance to persevere therein. — But, 
should preferment be offered, I shall venture to ask, whether 
the above be the right definition of subscription or not. If they 



64 CHANGE OP HIS [CHAP. IV. 

mean any thing else, and will say so — I mean, that a man may 
subscribe without believing every part — I then could sub- 
scribe. It is true, subscription would be then a farce : but 
that is their business But, by the unaccountable con- 
duct of Mr. W. the affair is noised so much abroad, that I do 
not suppose I shall ever have an offer : nor do I desire it. I 
am at present very composed, and resigned to my disappoint- 
ment ; and only w^ish for a rather better curacy, in a parish 
where I could hve, and spend my whole time in the duties of 
my function.— J^t first I was sadly agitated, which was increa- 
sed by the warm censures I received. In addition to other 
things, 1 doubt I have in part lost Mr. W.'s favour. But that 
God in whom I trust, and in obedience to whom I act, can 
raise me up another and better friend. He has supported me 
hitherto, and has brought my mind to a dependence on him ; 
and I do not fear that he will leave me destitute. ... I have 
but £80 a year in all, (including payment for the tuition of 
Master Wrighte,) and it is not very improbable that I may get 
a curacy of that value alone, as I do not mind what confine- 
ment it brings, nor how much work I do. . . . Besides, I deem 
it my duty (could I do it,) to confine myvself entirely to my of- 
fice as a minister, which, whatever people may think, is em- 
ployment suflScient for any man, when it is duly discharged.'* 

The following is to his younger sister, (afterward Mrs. 
Ford,) dated the next day, July 13, 1775. 

" Dear Sister, — Amidst a hurry of concerns, 1 undertake to 
write an answer to your kind letter : but can never answer it 
in any thing of a correct manner, as my head is full of thoughts, 
and my heart of cares. As to the affair which engrossed my 
last, I can say but little, lest I should again fill my sheet about 
it. Every day more firmly convinces me, that my cause is the 
cause of truth, and makes me more resolved to adhere to it at 
all adventures, confiding in God Almighty for support and as- 
sistance. I mean, that I will never purchase preferment at the 
price of subscription — if by subscription be meant an avowed 
assent to the truth of every proposition contained in the thirty- 
nine Articles. If those who require subscription will put any 
more favourable construction upon it, that may alter the case. 

" Since I wrote my last, I have had severe trials, of which I 
must give a brief account. I wrote a letter with the intention 
to publish it, which I resolved first to show Mrs. W., as I thought 
it was using Mr. W. ill, if I did not make known my resolution 
to him, that he might not trouble himself farther on my account. 
Accordingly I did let her see it : and the consequence was,, that 
for several days I was almost baited out of my life. All man- 
ner of accusations were heaped upon me : — vanity, hypocrisy, 
obstinacy, &c. I was tempted on one hand with hopes. 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 65 

and alarmed on the other with fears. Even starmng was men- 
tioned. But such arguments were made use of, as showed 
me the weakness of the cause that needed them. Conscience, 
rehgion, Providence, a future scene, were all made a mere jest 
of. But I was bold, and did not betray the cause of God and 
rehgion, but preached them some such sermons, (I mean in con- 
versation,) as they never had before heard, I think. However, 
the letter was sent, but not published ; which 1 cannot account 
for, as I desired the printer to send it back if he did not choose 
to publish it. But, strange to tell, these very persons who op- 
posed my publishing — which, among bad consequences, might 
have produced good ones, (as every body allowed the letter to 
be unanswerable, and, at the same time, modest and decent, and 
such as would in some measure apologize for itself,) these very 
persons spread the report all over the country, so that no one 
can be ignorant of my sentiments and resolutions ; yet none has 
the opportunity of seeing the reasons, on which they are ground- 
ed, fairly stated — At the same time I gave considerable offence 
by my endeavours to preserve a degree of authority over my 
pupil, which occasioned some disagreeable circumstances.- — 
These censures, added to the trial of relinquishing all my fond 
hopes, and renouncing my worldly interests, and aggravated by 
all the terrors, by which, in the day of trial, every thing is mag- 
nified, was well nigh more than I could bear. But by God Al- 
mighty's assistance- to whom I applied for direction and sup- 
port, in a manner that, I hope, was acceptable through his mer- 
cy, I soon composed my agitated mind, and reduced it into a 
state of resigned acquiescence in his will, and trust in his pro- 
mises. ... In adherence to the cause which I think good, I am 
ready to resign all my worldly expectations, and to sell all that I 
have, take up my cross, and follow my Lord and Master. —To 
this state of calm composure I arrived chiefly by reading the 
Gospels, and supposing the promises therein contained address- 
ed to me by divine veracity : and I have by that means, joined 
with prayer to God for direction and assistance, arrrived at that 
state of mind, asjto be ready to give up all my aspiring thoughts, 
and to content myself to serve God in the humble condition of 
a curate, if such be his will : though I cannot, nor can all the 
world, exclude me so effectually from preferment, but that God 
can give it me if he sees good. This advantage I most cer- 
tainly reaped from it that it has caused me more carefully to ex- 
amine the holy Scriptures, and to turn my thoughts more to 
these subjects, and to the consideration of that important trust, 
which is committed to me, and how I may discharge it, so as, 
while 1 preach to others, I may not be myself a cast-away, — 
This has been a most valuable acquisition, as I was before too 

6* 



66 CHANGE OF HI^ [CHAP. IV. 

apt to judge by comparison, and to think I did enough if l did 
rather more than others ; but now I find that, as I have been 
solemnly dedicated to the service of God and rehgion, I can 
never do enough, so long as I leave any thing undone, which it 
was in my power to do, towards the growth of reHgious know- 
ledge, and virtuous practice. — I have found that those, who en- 
ter the ministry for the sake of the riches, and honours, and in- 
dulgences thereby to be obtained, are guilty of a most aggra- 
vated crime : and that a zeal for the propagation of the Gospel 
and the salvation of souls ; a willingness to undertake any la- 
bours, and an alacrity in undergoing them ; a ready submission 
to inconvenience, and a constancy amidst difficulties ; being ca- 
pable even of bearing contempt and censure, or poverty, when 
laid in the way of our duty ; a warm benevolence ; and that 
Mnd of humility, which can condescend to the meanest offices 
for the sake of doing good ; are the indispensable dispositions 
for a faithful minister of the gospel. We are to live at the al- 
tar : but a livings a bare decent maintenance, without any ava- 
ricious or ambitious views of advancing ourselves or our fami- 
lies, or hankering after indulgences, should content us. We 
are required to set an example of moderation, and trust in God 
and his promises ; of heavenly-mindedness ; laying up our 
treasures in heaven ; setting our affections on things above ; 
having food and raiment, being therewith content ; in order that, 
with the greater advantage, we may, as we are in duty bound, 
inculcate these things on our flocks ; — all this I have learned, or 
confirmed to myself, and have, by God's grace, fixed my reso- 
lution to endeavour to attain. And, being assured that, if I do 
so, he will never leave me destitute, I am perfectly contented, 
as far as relates to this affair, only desiring that I may be able 
to persevere in my duty, and with an entire dependence, leav- 
ing the farther disposal of my concerns to God." 

My last extract is from a letter to Mrs. Webster, dated Ra- 
venstone, October 15, 1775. "In what you say of my rehgious 
scruples, you seem in several errors concerning me and my con- 
duct, which I must endeavour to rectify. You seem afraid I 
should lose all this world's goods. Remember our Saviour's 
words. Whosoever he be that forsaketh not all that he hath^ he 
cannot he my disciple : that is, if he be not ready to forsake all 
that he hath, when his duty requires it. Not that I have any 
reason to apprehend I am likely to be put to that severe trial. 
Thanks to the Almighty, my circumstances mend, my friends 
multiply, and I have reason to think that my reputation, as a 
faithful minister, increases rather than diminishes, — if one may 
judge by external respect, civilities, and favours. Not that I 
am so far ruled in my opinion of myself by what others judge 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 67 

of me, as to be reconciled to my faults because they are willing 
to pardon them. My conscience must be my judge in this 
world, and my Saviour in the next : and to them I appeal for 
the rectitude of my intentions. But even were I to be put to the 
trial of losing all my worldly goods, let me ask you, would you 
have me follow the example of the young man in the Gospel, 
who, sorrowing, left Christ, rather than part with his large pos- 
sessions ? What think you of what our Lord says. But seek ye 
FIRST the kingdom of God and Ms righteousness and all other 
things shall he added unto you ? Dare you believe this promise 
or not ? I Dare : and will act accordingly, by God's assist- 
ance. As to what you argue of my family, &c. I will take 
every honest precaution to provide for them : and I dare con- 
fidently submit the event to God, without once distrusting his 
veracity and goodness. Nor will I ever violate my conscience 

to provide for my family : at least I hope I never shall 

Were I in your condition, as a private Christian, the subjects 
of my scruples would give me no concern : and I join in the 
whole liturgy of the church, some very few things excepted, 
with the highest satisfaction. — As to my preaching, I neither 
preach for or against any human inventions. The word of God 
is my subject, and my rule ; and my preaching, I may venture to 
say, is more calculated to satisfy than to raise doubts and scru- 
ples. Without preferment I may live, and hve comfortably and 
happily : but without a clear conscience I cannot. I am a 
minister of the church of England, and hope to continue so, as 
I prefer her liturgy, her discipline, and her doctrine, to that of 
any other society of Christians in the universe : and if, by sub- 
scribing her Articles, they will declare they mean no more than 
such a preference, I will subscribe : but, if they mean by sub- 
scription an implicit belief of all their doctrines, it is a price 

I will not pay for preferment Mr. Lindsay I think in 

many dangerous errors, and I am sorry my father has got his 
l^ook." 

All this appears to me to present as fine an exhibition, in pro- 
portion to the stage on which it was passing, as can, perhaps. 
be pointed out since the days of Luther, of a man resolutely 
taking the right side in a severe case of that conflict, which is 
continually, in one form or other, carrying on in the world, be- 
tween conscience and present interest ; and in which so few 
are proof against the various assaults that temptation makes 
upon them. These letters demonstrate that, though the writer 
was yet far from having obtained just views of Christian doc- 
trines ; even of those doctrines which are most essential to the 
formation of the Christian spirit and character : yet he had re- 



^8 CHANGE OF HIS [CHAP. IV. 

ceived that great principle of" obedience to the faith," which 
was sure, under the divine blessing, ultimately to bring him 
right ; to lead him to the reception of every truth, and to sub- 
mission to every duty, as they might be successively brought 
home to his conviction. Indeed almost all the great linea- 
ments of my father's subsequent character are here presented to 
us in embryo, or, indeed, in a stage of considerable develop- 
ment : — his decision and boldness — his inflexible integrity — his 
acknowledgment of God in all his ways — his firm faith in His 
word, and His providence — his superiority to the world — his 
exalted views of the service w^hich Christ requires of us, espe- 
cially in the sacred ministry ; — views, be it observed, which 
however famihar they may be to any of us, open upon him 
with all the air and impression of a new discovery. Let a few- 
sentences be recalled to the reader's notice : — " It has pleased 
providence, that, by means of those very studies, on which I 
founded my hopes of advancement, I have arrived at what is 
totally incompatible with it. The supreme Director has turn- 
ed it into an insurmountable obstacle. — This is the far better side 
of the question" — namely, poverty, contempt, censure, with a 
good conscience. — " I have chosen this side, and hope by God's 
assistance to persevere therein. — I will never violate my con- 
science to provide for my family ; at least, I hope I never shall. 
— Without preferment I may live, and live happily ; but with 
out a clear conscience I cannot. — I was bold, and did not be- 
tray the cause of God. — Would you have me follow the exam- 
ple of the young man in the gospel ? God hath promised and 
I dare believe him. — Dare you believe his promise ? I dare : 
and by his assistance will act accordingly. — I do not fear that 
he will leave me destitute. — Bv reading the gospels, with pray- 
er to God, I have arrived at that state of mind, as to be ready 
to resign all my worldly expectations, and to sell all that I have, 
take up my cross, and follow my Lord and Master. — I have 
discovered the importance of that trust which is committed to 
me ; what is the extent of that duty it requires ; and how it 
ought to be performed : and I find it inconceivably different 
from what is generally supposed. — I was apt to judge by com- 
parison, and to think I did enough if I did rather more than 
others : but now I find that, as I have been solemnly dedicated 
to the service of God and religion, I can never do enough, 
so long as I leave any thing undone, which it was in my power 
to do, towards the growth of religious knowledge and virtuous 
practice. — We are to live at the altar : but a hving, a bare de- 
cent maintenance, without any avaricious or ambitious views 
of advancing ourselves or our families, or hankering after in- 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 69 

dulgences, should content us." I must be pardoned if I can» 
not contemplate with mere calm approbation sentences like 
these, not artfully arranged 

" To serve an occasion," 

but whispered, in sincerity of heart, where, as we have already 
seen, they were not likely to be received with approbation, and 
where there was no prospect of their ever emerging to public 
notice : — sentences, too, accompanied with unquestionable 
marks of sobriety of mind and deliberate judgment ; expressive 
of a severe sacrifice then actually taking place : and conveying 
sentiments which, after some farther fluctuations and delays, 
eventually governed the whole future life of their author. Surely 
there is something in them which bespeaks even the Christian 
hero. The occasion^ indeed, which first called these principles 
into action, was, as he soon afterward found, a fundamental 
misconception of Christian truths ; but the principles them- 
selves were noble. — From my father's conduct at this crisis, 
Mr. Newton augured well of him : but it would be a very small 
part of what is now before us, that could be submitted to Mr. 
N.'s observation. Had he known all that passed, he might well 
have anticipated all that followed. 

The comparative poverty in which my father spent his days 
has been lamented : and on some grounds it might justly be so : 
but had his lot been materially different, is it not manifest that 
sentiments like the above, which pervade his future writings, 
would in his mouth have lost more than half their force ? 

One farther remark suggests itself No one, I should con- 
ceive, can doubt, especially when these letters are viewed in 
connexion with what subsequently took place, that the writer of 
them was, at the time, praying to God in an acceptable manner, 
as well as profitably reading the Scriptures. The right use of 
prayer — making God our refuge in time of need — is appa- 
rent in them ; and the genuine effect of true prayer follows, 
which is composure of mind in committing events to God, 
while we keep the path of duty. And this falls in with a per- 
suasion which my father always entertained, and which has in 
effect been already quoted from the ^' Force of Truth," that he 
prayed spiritually, and consequently with acceptance, even 
while, to a considerable degree, involved in Socinian errors. 
No doubt, in such a case, he was assisted by a Spirit which he 
did not confess, and accepted through a Mediator, of whom, as 
yet, he had little explicit knowledge. But then, let it be ob- 
served, he was at this time no stationary and self-satisfied Soci- 
nian ; he was now a sincere and earnest inquirer after truth : 
he desired " to know," in order that he might '' do the will 



70 CHANGE OF HIS [CHAP. IV. 

of God :" he had already received that impulse, which was ere 
long, to carry him far off from the Socinian ground. And ac- 
cordingly, the very next paragraph, in the " Force of Truth,'- 
to those which are quoted as an introduction to the above let- 
ters, informs us, that the result of his great mental conflict was. 
to bring him to this important determination : " not so to be- 
lieve what any man said, as to take it upon his authority ; but 
to search the word of God with this single intention, to discover 
whether the articles of the Church of England, in general, and 
the Athanasian creed in particular, were or were not agreeable 
to the Scriptures." And hence may be dated that deep practi- 
cal study of the oracles of God, with constant earnest prayer 
for divine teaching ; and that entire change of sentiments and of 
character, resulting from it ; which t!:e " Force of Truth" de- 
scribes. — I cherish, not with a superstitious, yet certainly with 
a sort of reverent and grateful regard, a fragment of that Greek 
Testament in which, in the course of these inquiries, my father 
read and deeply meditated upon every part of that volume of 
revelation ; spending usually, as I have heard him say, during 
that one perusal, three hours upon every chapter : frequently, 
when the weather would permit, passing this time in the park 
of Weston Underwood, which has been subsequently immor- 
talized in the writings of Cowper. 

Before we return to the narrative, I shall here introduce one 
more extract of a letter, showing his views of some important 
doctrinal points. Though it appears from the "Force of 
Truth," that he was not established in the orthodox faith con- 
cerning the Trinity till the latter part of the year 1777, yet he 
wrote as follows upon some topics, apparently connected with 
it, as early as December 30, 1775. '^ I think my father's books 
lead him into errors of considerable consequence ; but, though 
I wish, and pray to God to set him right, yet I seem very un- 
willing to offer myself as an instrument. The error I mean in 
chief is, the supposition that man wanted an instructer^ more 
than a Saviour : or, in other words, that the merits of Christ 
were not so necessary to obtain remission of sins, as his instruc- 
tion was to teach us the way of righteousness. But this is con- 
trary to Scripture. Man, every man, is there represented as a 
sinner, as in bondage to sin and the devil, and as \v dinting re- 
demption from them ; as liable to punishment, and wanting 
salvation from it ; as weak and frail, and wanting the divine as- 
sistance. For all these purposes Jesus came. He is therefore 
our Redeemer, our Saviour, as well as our instructer ; and on 
him by faith, we should rely for forgiveness, for effectual assist- 
ance in obeying his precepts, and for the acceptance of out 
imperfect obedience." 



1 776 — 1 777.] HELiGious views. 7 1 

We now return to his narrative. " During part of the time 
that I resided at Ravenstone, I daily attended Mr. Wrighte's 
son : but, in proportion as I became more decidedly attentive to 
religion, my company was less agreeable ; and, some difference 
arising about the management of an indulged child, I was dis- 
missed from this employment. For some time afterward, I 
lived on terms of civility with the family : but, on my decidedly 
adopting and avowing my present rehgious sentiments, this 
connexion was, as nearly as possible dissolved. Thus all my 
flattering prospects from that quarter terminated. But it is bet- 
ter to trust in the Lord^ than to put any confidence in princes,''^ — 
The young man, who had been my father's pupil, lost his life 
about the time that he came of age, in a melancholy manner, 
on which occasion, my father says, " I wrote to Mr. W. in the 
most consoling, sympathizincf manner I possibly could, introdu- 
cing a few intimations of a religious nature ; hoping that on so 
pathetic an occasion his answer might have made way for some- 
thing farther : but no answer was returned." 

He proceeds : " Some part of that time also, I had two young 
relations from London under my care. I succeeded sufficiently 
well in bringing them forward in their studies, but I failed of 
gaining their attachment ; and I became convinced, that I did 
not possess that patience, mee^iness, and self-command, which 
the instruction of youth, especially of indulged children, re- 
quires : and, having learned, probably better than I had any 
other good lesson, to trust in the providence of God for tem- 
poral, subsistence, while I attended to the duties of my station ; 
and, finding ttrat t had,, in my peculiar circumstances, quite 
sufficient employment, in learning and teaching religion ; I 
deliberately gave up this part of my plan, resolving to under- 
take nothing more in the way of tuition, at least for the present. 
This being determined, I solemnly vowed before God, never 
more to engage in any pursuit, study, or publication which 
should not be evidently subservient to my ministerial useful- 
ness, or, generally, to the propagation of genuine Christianity. 
In some respects, perhaps, my notions on these subjects were 
too contracted : but I rejoice, and am thankful, that I have 
hitherto performed this vow." 

On this subject the following paragraph occurs in the '' Force 
of Truth." ''About this time" — the latter part of the year 
1776 — '' after many delays, I complied with the admonitions of 
my conscience, and disengaged myself from all other employ- 
ments, with a solemn resolution to leave all my temporal con- 
cerns in the hands of the Lord, and entirely to devote myself to 
the work of the ministry. Being thus become master of all 
my time, I dropped every other study, and turned the whole 



72 CHAKGE OF HIS [CHAP. IV. 

current of my reflections and inquiries into another channel ; 
and for several years, I scarcely opened a book which treated 
of any thing besides religion." 

The purpose here described, so solemnly formed, so faith- 
fully kept, and eventually productive of such important results, 
must certainly be noticed as a very observable point in my 
father's history. The proceeding was still characteristic ; 
shov/ing his usual determination of mind. Circumstances also, 
as he implies, might peculiarly call for it in his case ; and, now 
that we have seen the event, we cannot help regarding it as 
one of those steps which was to lead to the accomplishment of 
the special work, that divine providence designed him to per- 
form. Considering likewise the ambitious view^s which had 
influenced his entering into orders, and many of his subsequent 
exertions, and the deliberate sacrifice of those views which was 
made by the resolution now before us, we can hardly avoid 
looking upon it, as marking a mind just arrived at that point of 
its Christian progress, at which, '^ after many delays," many 
hesitations, and misgivings, and conflicts, and fears, perhaps, 
for the consequences, it is at length brought " to count all but 
loss for Christ," — ^' finds the pearl of great price, and goes 
and sells all that it may buy it." 

Independently, however, of any thing peculiar to the present 
case, is not one compelled to exclaim. Blessed is that servant, 
called by his Lord to the work of the ministry, who thus " gives 
himself wholly thereto !"* His " profiting shall be known unto 
all men :" his ^^ labour shall not be in vain in the Lord :" he 
shall be " blessed in his* deed." Alas ! in this especially we 
fail, I fear, of imitating the primitive ministers of the gospel. 
And are not we, of the present generation, here in danger of 
falling short of our fathers ; of men who have been called to 
their reward even in our own time ? Are we not often distract- 
ed by various studies, various pursuits, w^hich pertain to the 
present life, instead of wholly given to the work of the Lord ? 
Is it not from this, among other causes, that we are so liable to 
be ministers, indeed, in the pulpit, but at the best, only ordina- 
ry Christians every where else ?t 

While I venture to suggest these inquiries, prompted, alas ! 
in great measure by my own feelings, and my own conscious- 
ness, I would not forget the limitation which the subject of 
these memoirs himself puts upon what has given occasion to 
them. He observes, ^' In some respects, perhaps, my notions 

* 'Ev TcvTot? "tc-Bt. 1 Tim. iv. 1 5. 

t See the admirable remarks on the Christian l^Iinistry in Mr. Cecil's 
Remains. 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 73 

on these subjects were (then) too contracted." And, accord- 
ingly, I would add, that, though " for several years he scarcely 
opened a book which treated of any thing besides rehgion," 
this by no means continued to be the case, when his mind was 
made up and well stored with information upon theological ques- 
tions. On the contrary, his reading then became as various as 
he had the opportunity of making it. No book, which furnish- 
ed knowledge that might be turned to account, was uninterest- 
ing to him.* It was his sentiment, that every student should 
be as excursive in his researches, as his particular calling would 
permit him to be ; but that every one should have, so to speak, 
•* a hive" to which to bring home his collected stores : should 
make all his acquisitions bear upon some useful object. So 
far from undervaluing solid learning of any kind, he esteemed it 
more and more highly, to the end of life ; and earnestly pressed 
young men to acquire it, that they might consecrate it to the 
service of God. He longed to see other branches of literature 
rendered subservient to religion ; and thought that, while too 
much, perhaps, was published directly upon theological sub- 
jects, there was a lamentable deficiency of literary works con- 
ducted upon sound Christian principles. 

I may here introduce another remarkable letter, showing the 
progress of his doctrinal views at this time. It is addressed to 
his younger sister, and dated December 30, 1776. I should 
have supposed it written after he had become acquainted with 
Hooker's works, had he not in the -^ Force of Truth" so ex- 
pressly referred his introduction to that great writer to the fol- 
lowing month, January, 1777. One expression in the letter cer- 
tainly seems to imply that he had met with, at least, an impor- 
tant quotation from Hooker. — It should be borne in mind, that 
in this and other letters, when he uses the term methodist^ it is 
with the same Hmitation as in the ^^ Force of Truth :" it means 
neither the followers of Mr.* Wesley, nor of Mr. Whitfield, to 
whom it was first apphed, and by whom it has been more or less 
recognized ; but chiefly those persons, within the pale of the 
estabhshed church, who have incurred it, as a terra of reproach, 
by a close adherence to the real doctrines, (as they apprehend- 
ed them to be,) of the Reformation, and a conduct correspond- 
ing with their principles.! The letter is as follows : 

* As examples I would mention, that, when Mr. H. Thornton's work on 
Paper Credit came out, he read it repeatedly with great satisfaction ; having 
in some measure been prepared for the subject by his former study of " Locke's 
Treatises on Money," &c. At a much later period also he felt himself deep- 
ly interested in reading the Greek tragedians, and other classic authors, 
with his pupils. 

t See note at the end of the first part of tiie " Force of Truth." ' 

7 



74 CHANGE OF HIS [CHAP. IV, 

" I told my brother I would give him my sentiments on some 
subjects he mentioned, in my letter to you. The first was the ' 
Methodists. And here I shall not begin to rail at them, or con- 
demn them and their doctrines and principles altogether ; nor 
yet shall I acquit, or extol them, in the gross. Their doctrines 
are the doctrines of Scripture, by the help of a warm imagination, 
run into extremes : which, pushed forward by the same helps, 
may be represented as little better than madness, and as destruc- 
tive of all practical religion. — The doctrines are, 1 . Justification 
by faith alone : and in this matter they are evidently in the right, 
as every man who reads the Scriptures must see. The doctrine, 
as 1 view it, stands thus : All men are actual sinners : No sin- 
ner can justify himself before God : If then he be justified, it 
cannot be by his own works, but by God's mercy and favour : 
And this mercy and favour are given to none but believers. At 
the same time, even our best performances have so much of im- 
perfection in them, our fruit of holiness is so unsound,* that be- 
fore a holy God, even our best actions cannot justify themselves ; 
much less atone for our manifold sins, or deserve any reward, 
or an eternal reward. Therefore our justification is not, in 
any sense or degree, attributed to our works, because they have 
no inherent merit, or acceptableness, in them, save that God 
doth mercifully condescend to accept them at the hands of all 
believers. Therefore, we are justified before God by faith : but 
then it is such a faith as worketh by love, love of God and man ; 
bringeth the believer under the influence of the Holy Spirit : 
and the fruit of that Spirit is in all goodness^ and righteousness^ 
and truth. If faith do not this, it is so far from justifying any 
person, that it cannot justify itself: it is dead, inactive, unfruit- 
ful. Thus the necessity of good works is effectually secured, 
for without them there is no justification. And yet we are not 
justified by them, but by that faith which produces them. 
Read St. Paul's epistles, and St. James', carefully, without any 
comment, and object to the doctrine if you can. The metho- 
dists, therefore, are to blame in this alone, that they do not guard 
their doctrine as St. Paul has done, but use such expressions in 
discoursing of it, as may be interpreted so, as utterly to destroy 
all good and evil ; and dwell on these passages in such wise, as 
to neglect and undervalue those other passages, which so plain- 
ly declare, that the design of the gospel is to make us holy 
here, that we may be capable of being happy hereafter. See 
Tit. ii. 11, &.C. — But then the ministers of other principles are 
at least equally to blame for so much neglecting to study the 

* " The little fruit ivliich we have in holiness, it is, God knoweth, corrupt 
and unsound." Hooker, of Justification. 



1775 — 1777.] RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 75 

Scriptures, and to explain these doctrines in their true sense ^ 
thereby giving injudicious people an occasion of perverting them. 
— In short, we are to be justified by our faith, which alone can 
render sinners partakers of the grace and mercy of the gospel : 
at the same time, we and our faith also must be judged accord- 
ing to our works : and, if our faith have not produced the fruits of 
rifjhteousness, it will be condemned as dead and unfruitful, and 
we both as sinners and unbelievers. — 2. The Methodists preach 
the imputed righteousness of Christ : wiiich too is a scripture 
doctrine, as I think. Christ became sin for us^ though he knew 
no sin^ that we might he made the righteousness of God in him^ 
says St. Paul. But I will leave you to examine it, unless you 
desire me to be more full, and only lay down my system of it. 
We all by nature had interest in Adam, and were condemned 
in or by his condemnation, for his disobedience, unto temporal 
death (This certainly we all suffered on account of Adam's 
sin, who thereby became mortal, and propagated a mortal pro- 
geny ; though all other consequences were best attributed to 
each person's actual transgressions.) — Even so we all may spi- 
ritually, being by faith united unto him, as branches of the true 
vine, have interest in Christ, and be justified in his justification, 
for his perfect obedience unto eternal life. See Rom. v. vi. — I 
am persuaded, if you carefully examine, you will find this not 
only St. Paul's doctrine, but, m general, the doctrine of the 
New Testament. The only fault the Methodists commit is, in 
laying so much stress on this, as to derogate from the necessity 
of personal righteousness, or holiness. And here indeed they 
are very unscriptural ; for nothing can be plainer than that, if 
any man be by faith united unto Christ, that union will assu- 
redly make him bring forth much fruit : (see John xv.) and that 
nothing can more effectually dissolve that mystical union, than 
a wicked and immoral life. — 3. The Methodists attribute all to 
the grace of God's Holy Spirit, even faith itself: and so do the 
Scriptures. And yet in this they are more exceptionable than 
in any other point : because they thereby totally and avowedly 
^ overthrow our agency, and turn us into machines, and render 
God a respecter of persons, and indeed what I do not choose 
to say.'^ In short, to every Christian God hath promised his 
Holy Spirit, if he sue for it, and is more ready to give than we 
to pray ; and doth, in the sinner's conversion, prevent his 
prayers : but we may resist, grieve, quench, do despite unto this 
Holy Spirit. ... I say nothing of their notions of election, pre- 



* It need not be said what his own subsequent opinion was of these 
charges. They fall under the censure implied in the first sentence of this 
letter, concerning the doctrines of "the Methodists." 



T6 CHA^-GE OF HIS [chap. iv. 

destination, assurance of the elect, and others, which are all im- 
plied, as far as doctrinal,^ in what I have said ; though as mere 
speculative notions they are not : and are too abstruse, and un- 
important, and perplexing, to be worth treating of — The doc- 
tri'ies of regeneration, or the new birth, and original sin, and 
free grace, are all more or less scriptural : but under such in- 
terpreters are generally carried much beyond the truth, and 
degenerate into fanaticism, and partake of their other notions....'* 

The birth of my father's two eldest children, at Ravenstone. 
has been already mentioned. Perhaps I shall be excused, if, 
for the sake of introducing a characteristic paragraph, I bring 
myself a little more distinctly into notice. The next letter to 
his sister, dated April 15, 1777, contains the following pas- 
sage : 

^^ As to my boy, he is already dedicated to the ministry, if it 
please God to spare his life, and mine, and to give him a head 
and heart meet for so sacred and important a function. Should 
he be defective in either one or the other, he shall be any 
thing or nothing rather than that. Bad ministers we have 
enough, and much more than enough : but good ones are a sort 
of black swans, mighty great rarities. — It was with this intent 
that I wished the child to be a boy ; and with this intent I 
shall, God willing, always educate him : and, if he hves to be 
a pious, faithful, able, and useful minister of the gospel, I ask 
no higher preferment for him, than I now have myself: so 
contented am I with my own lot, and so totally indifferent 
about these lesser matters." 

^' At this time," my father proceeds in his memoir, ^^ I had 
not the most distant prospect of preferment ; my expectation 
of adding to my scanty income by pupils was terminated ; and, 
considering the character of my vicar, and the determined op- 
position of my former rector, I had but little prospect of retaining 
my curacy. Yet with an increasing family, I seldom felt any 
anxiety about a provision : and my wife, who had married 
with different prospects, fully concurred with me. She would 
say, ' Only act according to the dictates of your conscience ; 
we shall doubtless be provided for:' yet, when she saw, as she 
frequently did, that my eager spirit and violent temper were 
hurrying me into wrong measures, she uniformly checked me : 
and, though often not till after much opposition on my part, 
she always carried her point with me ; to my unspeakable be- 
nefit. 

^^ After I had written my sermons for the Sunday, I, for a 
long time, constantly read them to her before they were preach- 

* Query : practical ? 



X775 — 1777. J RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 

ed ; at her instance, I altered many things, especially in ex- 
changing words, anintelligibie to labourers and lace-makers, for 
simpler language. This induced a habit of familiar speaking 
in the pulpit, which has since been censured, probably with 
justice, as too colloquial." 

It may here be added, that my father's practice of extempo- 
rary preachmg commenced from these private rehearsals of his 
sermons before they were preached. Something had occurred 
in the parish to which he thought it right to allude in the pulpit : 
but, on his reciting to my mother the sermon which he had 
prepared, she objected to it, and brought him over to her opi- 
nion. He in consequence laid aside the discourse, and was 
thus, on the Saturday evening, left without one for the next day. 
This induced him to address his congregation without written 
preparation ; and, succeeding in the attempt, he repeated it, and 
ijy degrees discontinued the use of written sermons. This 
change, however, was not made without severe effort. An old 
parishioner at Weston (lately deceased,) mentioned, well re- 
membering his sitting down in a kind of despair, and exclaim- 
ing, ^'- It does not signify, it is impossible that 1 should ever be 
able to preach extempore.'' 



CHAPTER V. 

TO THE PERIOD OF THE PUBLICATION OF THE FORCE OF TRUTH. 

''In the spring, 1777, I removed to Weston Underwood, to 
a house afterward well known, under the name of the Lodge, 
as the residence of the poet Cowper. The ground intended 
for the garden, when I came to it, more resembled a stone-quar- 
ry : but by my personal labour it was brought into order, and 
several fine fruit trees, now growing in it, were of my planting. 

'' In August following my father died. He seemed to be well 
satisfied at my becoming a clergyman : but my new views of 
the doctrines of Christianity did not meet his approbation. In 
answer to what I had written on this subject, I received a letter 
very hostile to my sentiments, and full of Socinian principles. 
This greatly aflfected me, and I wrote an answer with many 
tears and prayers : but he never saw it, as he was dying when 
it arrived. On receiving information of his sickness, I set of." 
immediately to visit him, but I did not reach his house (distant 
more than a hundred miles,) till after his funeral. 

" Every circumstance, on this mournful occasion, concurrecl 
to depress my spirits ; and I appeared so dejected and melan- 



/5 AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. [CHAP. V. 

choly among my relations, and my former neighbours, who had 
always before been pleased with my cheerfulness, (though alas ! 
it was in a great measure assumed and affected,) that my reli- 
gious principles bore the blame, and their prejudices against 
them were much increased." 

In a letter dated April 15th of this year, he had thus advert- 
ed to his father's religious sentiments. '-^ I am grieved when- 
ever I think of some notions my father used to hold, which are 
so directly contrary to true Christian doctrine, and grounded 
on self-dependence, which most assuredly is destructive of the 
whole scheme of justification through Christ. He has given 
me permission to write on these subjects ; and I have written 
several letters already, which must I think convince him, that 
man has no ground to hope for acceptance with God on his 
own account, or through his own poor deservings. It is amazing 
to consider what havoc this self-dependence makes among the 
Christian duties. Gratitude for abundant mercies received, 
and praise and thanksgiving in consequence ; prayer to God for 
forgiveness, for assistance, and for acceptance ; in short, every 
part of piety and the love of God suffers exceedingly from 
these notions : and so doth humility, which is of all others the 
most needful to our acceptance with God, who resisteth the 
proud^ and giveth his grace unto the humble. Indeed I cannot 
conceive that a man can become a Christian, who does not 
feel that he is a poor lost sinner, that has no hope but from 
God's mercy in Christ. My brother, I am of opinion, disap- 
proves this way of writing : but I do it, I am sure, from the 
best of motives, and would rather convince my father of his 
errors in this respect, than acquire a very large sum of money 
— ay, than obtain any worldly advantage whatsoever." . 

In the same letter he thus notices his approaching removal 
to Weston : '^ I have scarcely room to tell you, that we are to 
remove to Weston, to a fine house, fit for a squire, and other 
people are to pay the rent. This (obtaining of a house at 
Weston) I heartily thank God for, as [ am placed in a neigh- 
bourhood where every body vies in kindness to me ; and where 
f have the pleasing prospect of doing much good. Assure 
yourself, dear sister, that God will raise up friends, and provide 
for all who trust in him, and serve him." 

The death of his mother took place the 28th of October fol- 
lowing. The event appears to have come upon him unexpected- 
ly. He was to have received a visit from her, which he had hoped 
might promote her spiritual interests, but she was not able to 
undertake the journey ; and it seems not to have been till the 
29th of October, (the day after her decease,) that^ he was 
apprised of her danger, or had the opportunity of writing to 
her on the subject. In a letter to his elder sister of that date, 



1777 1779.] ATWESTONIJ^JDERWOOJD^ 79 

enclosing one to his mother, he says : '^ God knows my heart, 
I have no sentiments respecting either you or her, or any of the 
family, but those of love and affection, and am exceedingly sor- 
ry that my undesigned negligence" (he had written a letter 
which had slipped behind his bureau, and was never sent,) 
"should cause any uneasiness to one, to whom I wish most sincere- 
ly every possible good, and whom 1 most heartily pray to God 

to bless with every blessing here and hereafter 

Though I sincerely wish every branch of the family may con- 
tend, who shall show our common and only remaining parent 
the most tenderness and attention, yet I would not have it such 
a contest as to disturb, in the least, that mutual love and harmo- 
ny, which I wish, and shall ever endeavour to preserve among 
ourselves." 

About the time of my father's removal to Weston, his inter- 
course with Mr. Newton, which had been almost wholly broken 
off since the termination of their correspondence, in December, 
1775, was renewed. '■'• Under discouraging circumstances," he 
tells us in the '•^ Force of Truth ;" he *•' had occasion to call upon 
Mr. N., and was so comforted and edified by his discourse, that 
his heart, being by this means relieved of its burden, became 
susceptible of affection for him. From that time," he says, 
" I was inwardly pleased to have him for my friend ; though 
not, as now, rejoiced to call him so." 

The narrative proceeds : " About 170Z. eventually came to 
me by my father's death ; w^hich, by annual small deductions 
beyond the interest, was gradually exhausted. I had indeed, 
at that time, to struggle with many difficulties ; but I met with 
unexpected helps, and still kept up my credit, though not 
free from debt. 

'^ I had frequent attacks of sickness ; and, after one long and 
dangerous illness, which had occasioned heavy additional ex- 
penses, my wife, who was seldom disposed to distrust provi- 
dence, lamented to me the increase of our debts, as the medi- 
cal charges amounted to above lOZ. It was my turn, on this 
occasion, to be the stronger in faith ; and I answered confident- 
ly, ' Now observe if the Lord do not, in some way, send us an 
additional supply to meet this expense, which it was not in our 
power to avoid.' I had, at the time, no idea of any source from 
which this additional supply was to be derived : but, in the af- 
ternoon of the same day, when I was visiting my people, Mr. 
Higgins, jun. called at my house and left a paper, which he said 
when I had filled up the blanks, would entitle me to lOZ. from 
a sum of money left for the rehef of poor clergymen. This 1 
never received at any other time, nor can I recollect the source 
from which it came." 



bO AT WESTON UiSDERWOOB. [CHAP. V» 

The remarks which I would make upon this incident are the 
following : That, whatever may be thought of it, the fact no 
doubt happened as here related : that my father was by no 
means disposed to expect extraordinary interpositions of pro- 
vidence, or to make a display of them when they appeared to 
take place ; that it is by no means uncommon for good men, of 
the most sober minds, circumstanced as he was, to meet with 
such occurrences ; which form one, among many means, of 
rendering their scanty supphes a source of greater enjoyment, 
than the more ample provision of their richer brethren fre- 
quently proves : and finally, that I believe evei^y careful observer 
will find remarkable coincidences in the course of events, which 
he will feel it right to note, as subjects of grateful remembrance 
to himself, whether he deem it proper to communicate them to 
others or not. — '•'• Whoso is wise will ponder these things : and 
they shall understand the loving kindness of the Lord." 

^' About this time," he proceeds, '•'- 1 began with great caution, 
to administer medical assistance to a few of my poor neigh- 
bours, and Mr. (now Dr.) Kerr, of Northampton,* bestowed 
some pains in directing my proceedings ; for he felt, as I have 
always done, that the poor in country villages are under great 
and pitiable disadvantages in this respect, which no humanity 
of their neighbours, without medical skill, can prevent. I had 
before paid some attention to the study of medicine ; and now, 
having ^o eminently skilful an adviser ready to give me counsel 
and aid, I made progress ; and, being always cautious not to 
act beyond my knowledge, I had great success at small expense* 
It may not be impertinent to remark, that, from that time to 
the present, I have constantly had medical advice for myself 
and my family gratis ; and my annual charge for medicines, inclu- 
ding those distributed to the poor, has been less, on an average, 
than my apothecary's bill used previously to be. 

'^ Concerning the progress of my mind at this time, in its re- 
ligious inquiries, I need not add to what I have written in the 
'Force of Truth'" 

From that narrative we may observe, that this year, 1777, 
was marked as bringing his religious inquiries to a decisive re- 
sult, and giving somewhat of mature form to his scheme of doc- 
trine. In the course of it his views were cleared up, and his 
sentiments established, successively, upon the doctrines of the 
atonement, human depravity, the Trinity, justification, the work 
of the Holy Spirit, and finally, on that of personal election. 
Now also he was enabled, after many conflicts with him- 

* Still practising there in the full enjoyment of his powers, though many 
years older than my father. 



1777 1779.] AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. 81 

self, to make his last and most trying sacrifice, that of reputa- 
tion ; and calmly, yea, cheerfully, to submit to ^^ suffer re- 
proach," and to be accounted ^^ a fool for Christ's sake." 
From about the close of this year, he began with profit to hear 
Mr. Newton preach ; and, being established in the belief of 
the great truths of the gospel, to cherish their proper influence 
upon his own heart and life. 

Some farther extracts from an interesting letter to his elder 
sister, of the loth of April in this year, parts of which have 
been already inserted, may bear both on the facts just related, 
and on those which are next to follow. 

" It is an uncommon degree of fortitude to be able to set one's 
face against the world, and to act contrary to its received max- 
ims and customs. The soldier, who is bold as a lion in the 
day of battle, turns coward here, and dares not refuse a chal- 
lenge, though his reason, his religion, the laws of the land, and 
his own incHnation, are all directly contrary to it : though his 
life and soul are at stake. Such a tyrant is custom 1 Who 
dare oppose him ? I will tell you who : the confirmed Chris- 
tian. Who is he that overcometh the tvorld? Even he that 
believeth that Jesus is the son of God, And this is the victory, 
even our faith. These are the only men who ever dare to 
obey God rather than man, where the two are in direct oppo- 
sition. But it is not every Christian, no, nor every good and 
pious Christian, who can thus courageously act, and undaunt- 
edly follow the dictates of conscience, when friends, relations, 
and all those whom one has been used to reverence aad love, 
- are of a contrary opinion ; especially if the case be dubious, 
and much may be said on both sides. This is the last victory 
the Christian gains. He will master, by that grace which is 
given of God, his own lusts and passions, and all manner of in- 
ward and outward temptations ; he w^iil be dead to the interest, 
pleasures, and diversions of the world ; and his affections will 
be earnestly set upon things above ; long before he has master- 
ed this fear of men. . . . Here I find my ow^n deficiency, as 
much or more than in any other respect : and often I feel an 
inward timidity, when about to preach an unpopular doctrine., 
or expose a foible which some one of my congregation, whom 
1 otherwise love and esteem, is remarkable for : and in every 
instance I feel the greatest reluctancy to resign the good opinion, 
or act contrary to the judgment of those for w^hom I have an 
esteem. It is true I am pecuHarly bound to strive against this, 
by reason of my ministerial office. I am to speak boldly, not 
as a man-pleaser^ but as the servant of God : and therefore, I 
endeavour to master all these fears, and to act implicitly as my 
conscience suggests, without respect of persons. Conformity 



02 AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. [CHAP. V 

to others in things unchristian, the fear of men, a servile spirit 
of time-serving, &:.c. are the faults of ministers, and effectually 
hinder even tiiose who desire it, from performing the most 
important parts of their ministry, both in public preaching, and 
by private apphcation. But this kind of spirit goeth not out 
but by a very spiritual and devout course of life. Indeed its 
expulsion is the gift of God, and is to be specially sought for 
from him. . . , To betray the more important, in order to secure 
the lesser interest, is a thing I could not do ; and I have too 
great an opinion of your sincerity in your profession as a Chris- 
tian, to think you would wish it. But perfection is not attain- 
able here ; and, had we nothing else to trust to for acceptance 
with God, but our own imperfect righteousness, we should have 
little to support us^ and should have a strong temptation to 
despair, as soon as ever we became acquainted with the strict- 
ness of God's law, and our own trangressions of it, daily and 
hourly repeated. But, thank God, the wound is no sooner 
given than the remedy is applied : our self-dependence is no 
sooner undermined, than we are supplied with ^ more sure 
ground of dependence, even the merits and sufferings of our 
crucified Redeemer. — May you and 1, and all ours, have, by 
true, lively, humble faith, an interest in him !" 

The next occurrence, recorded in the memoir, marks the 
faithfulness with which my father was now dischargmg the 
duties of his ministry, not only in the congregation, but towards 
his parishioners individually ; and the success of an attempt, 
which could not be made but at a considerable expense of feel- 
ing, may encourage others not to decline such services. 

^^ In the summer of this year, (1777,) Mr. Higgins, who was 
formerly mentioned, returned from London in a very bad state 
of health, and I soon found that his disorder was dropsy ; the 
symptoms of which afforded no hop^es of his recovery, or long 
continuance in life : yet no one gave him the least intimation 
of his danger. 1 could not consider him as in a decidedly pre- 
pared state : nay, I greatly doubted his experimental acquaint- 
ance with religion. He was my superior and benefactor. He 
was old, and I was young. I knew not how to act : but I 
could have no peace without attempting something. After 
much consideration and prayer, therefore, I wrote to him, in 
the kindest and most grateful manner I could ; but plainly 
informing him what the physicians thought of his disease, and 
not obscurely intimating my fears in respect of his immortal 
soul. I was greatly afraid that some of the family would be 
offended at this proceeding, especially if he himself should not 
take it well. But he expressed great approbation and thank- 
fulness ; and I was requested to visit him daily as a minister ; 



1777 1779.] AT »vju.brON UNDERWOOD. GO 

which I did, conversing very plainly with him, and ahvays con- 
cluding with prayer. He heard me attentively ; was at times 
affected ; and always seemed pleased with my assiduity, though 
he spoke little. His end proved to be nearer than any one ex- 
pected, and he expired suddenly in his chair, without saying any 
thing particular. I, however, had done my duty : I trust my 
endeavours were made useful to his widow ; and certainly 1 lost 
no favour by my honesty — which is not, in such cases, by any 
means so perilous as we are often apt to suppose it. I was also 
desired to write an inscription for his monument, which was, 
to me, a very difficult task : but I was enabled to execute it to 
the satisfaction of the parties concerned. 

" In the former part of my life I had been exceedingly fond 
o^ cards. Indeed, 1 showed a propensity to gaming, from which 
many bad consequences had been foreboded : but ill success 
on one occasion, long before I attended to rehgion, had res- 
cued me from this ; and, at the time of which I am now writing, 
I had lost all my relish for the diversion of cards, and every 
other of a similar nature. I, however, occasionally joined in 
a game, from an idea that too great preciseness might prejudice 
my neighbours : and I was then of opinion, that there was no 
harm in the practice, though it seemed a frivolous way of spend- 
ing time. I felt it also a very awkward transition to remove 
the card-table, and introduce the Bible and family worship; 
though I never omitted this service at home, and commonly 
proposed it in my visits. My fetters were, however, broken 
effectually, and at once, about January, 1778, in the following 
manner. Being on a visit to one of my parishioners at Ra- 
venstone, I walked out after dinner, as was my common prac- 
tice on such occasions, to visit some of my poor people ; when 
one of them, (the first person as far as I know, to whom my 
ministry had been made decidedly useful,) said to me, ^ I have 
something which I wish to say to you, but I am afraid you may 
be offended.' I answered, that I could not promise, but I hoped 
I should not. She then said, ^ You know A. B. : he has lately 
appeared attentive to religion, and has spoken to me concern- 
ing the sacrament : but last night, he, with C. D., and some 
others, met to keep Christmas ; and they played at cards, drank 
too much, and in the end quarrelled, and raised a sort of riot. 
And when I remonstrated with him on his conduct, as incon- 
sistent with his professed attention to religion, his answer was. 
There is no harm in cards : Mr. Scott plays at cards!' — This 
smote me to the heart. I saw that, if I played at cards, how- 
ever soberly and quietly, the people would be encouraged 
by my example to go farther : and, if St. Paul would eat no 
Jksh while the world stood ^ rather than cause his weak brother 



84 AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. [CHAP. V. 

to offend^ it would be inexcusable in me to throw such a stum- 
bhng block in the way of my parishioners, in a matter certainly 
neither needful nor expedient. So far from being offended at 
the hint thus given me, I felt very thankful to my faithful moni- 
tor, and promised her that she should never have occasion to 
repeat the admonition. That very evening I related the whole 
matter to the company, and declared my fixed resolution never 
to play at cards again. I expected that I should be harassed 
with solicitations; but I was never asked to play afterward. 
Let me, therefore, from my own experience, as well as from 
the reason of the case, urge persons from their first entrance 
upon a rehgious course, when asked to do any thing which 
they disapprove, fairly to state their disapprobation as a point 
of conscience. For not only is this most becoming those in 
whom there is no guile^ but it is also by far the most prudent pro- 
ceeding. If they assign reasons drawn only from local and 
temporary circumstances, when those circumstances are chang- 
ed, they will be pressed again and again with redoubled ear- 
nestness ; whereas, if they once fairly declare their refusal to 
be the result of deliberate consideration, and the dictate of con- 
science, the hope of prevailing upon them will be given up, and 
they will save themselves great trouble and danger. 

" Let me also observe, that the minister, who would not have 
his people give into such worldly conformity as he disapproves, 
must keep at a considerable distance from it himself. If he 
walk near the brink, others will fail down the precipice. — When 
I first attended seriously to rehgion, I used sometimes, when I 
had a journey to perform on the next day, to ride a stage in the 
evening, after the services of the sabbath ; and I trust my time 
on horseback w^as not spent unprofitably. But I soon found 
that this furnished an excuse to some of my parishioners, for 
employing a considerable part of the Lord's day in journeys of 
business or convenience. I need scarcely add, that I immedi- 
ately abandoned the practice, on the same ground on which I 
resolved never more to play at cards, even before I thought so 
unfavourably of them as I now do. 

^^ In this connexion I may take occasion to mention my es- 
trangement from another favourite diversion, at a still earlier 
period. In the former part of my life, I had been extravagantly 
fond of seeing plays acted, even in the rude manner in which 
they are performed in country places. Hence I anticipated the 
highest pleasure from visiting a London theatre. But I never 
went more than once : for I witnessed so much folly and wicked- 
ness, and heard so much profaneness and ribaldry, both from 
the stage and in other parts of the theatre, that I resolved, on 
leaving the house, never to go to a play again. — Yet this was 



1777 1779.] AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. 86 

in April, 1773, before my mind was in any material degree 
turned towards religion, and nearly five years previously to my 
giving up cards.* 

^^ My unreserved, and often, no doubt, forward and rash 
avowal of the change which had taken place in my religious 
views and purposes, soon induced most of my former acquaint- 
ances to avoid me. Thus 1 escaped hearing the scoffs and re- 
proaches which were uttered against me in abundance behind 
my back ; and was also exempted from many temptations ; but, 
perhaps, I at the same time lost some openings for usefulness, 
which might have been afforded me. One clergyman, however, 
who possessed more doctrinal knowledge than many, and with 
whom I had been somewhat intimate, would not thus give me up. 
— My time was much occupied with study and the preparation of 
sermons ; (for I preached and lectured five times in the week, 
— three of which were gratuitous services :) so that trifling vi- 
siters were very unwelcome : but, as this clergyman frequently 
visited at Mrs. Throckmorton's (the Roman Catholic family re- 
sident in the village,) when he had nothing to engage him at the 
Hall, he used to call §n me in the forenoons, and try to enter 
into dispute with me on the doctrines of the gospel ; especially 
the high points usually denominated Calvinistic. Finding this 
very unprofitable, I one day said to him : ^ You are not I pre- 
sume, aware. Sir, that we differ more in our sentiments on prac- 
tical subjects, than even with respect to these doctrines.' So 
far from allowing this, he maintained, that on such subjects we 
were perfectly agreed : while I, to support my position, read 
him a lecture on the duties of a clergyman, according to my 
views of them. I pointed out what the minister's motives and 
aim ought to be ; and how his time ought to be divided, between 
his studies (especially the study of the holy Scriptures,) and 
private devotion ; preparing his sermons ; catechizing children ; 
instructing the ignorant ; visiting the sick ; and conversing 
with his people. I hence inferred, that the consistent clergy- 
man could have no time to spare for unprofitable visits and vain 
diversions ; and but little for any visits, except in subserviency 
to religious edification and usefulness. ' And now. Sir,' I said 
at the conclusion, ^ do we not differ on this practical subject, at 
least as much as respecting justification or election V He had 
no answer to make ; and he never more came to interrupt my 
studies. I am sorry to add, that no farther good effect was 
produced. 



* I would refer the reader for the most forcible obserrations on the theatre, 
that 1 have anywhere met with, to Mr. Pearson's life of Mr. Hey, partii, p. 
242, &c. 



86 AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. [CHAP. V. 

" My vicar at Ravenstone, in proportion as I became more 
decided in my views, and especially more instant in preaching, 
increasing the length, as well as the frequency, of my sermons ; 
both of his own instance, and as excited by others, showed 
more marked opposition to my proceedings. Sometimes his 
opposition assumed an angry and menacing form, and, alas ! 
more than once produced in me reciprocal anger : yet my argu- 
ments from our Liturgy and Articles always proved to him un- 
answerable. At other times, his tone was more playful and jo- 
cose. One day he remonstrated with me on the length of my 
sermons, (which fell not much short of an hour ;) and he men- 
tioned by name several clergymen who preached twenty, fifteen, 
twelve, or even ten minutes. My answer w^as, that I feared they 
were in jest, but I was in earnest. — On another occasion he ob- 
jected to my writing so many new sermons : principally, I be- 
lieve, because he had been used to be diverted by my company, 
and my time was now otherwise engaged. He observed that, 
for his own part, when he was ordained, he had written fifty- 
four or fifty-five sermons, and they had served him very well 
ever since, — though he had been above ifty years in orders. I 
remarked, that I hoped he had, during that long period, grown 
much wiser ; but that he had effectually precluded his people 
from profiting by his improvement ! 

"• In this way, sometimes by argument, and sometimes by re- 
plies half serious, and half playful, I maintained my ground, till 
at length, the old gentleman was so impressed by what he heard 
and saw, that he forbore, for a time, all opposition ; vindicated 
me against censure ; wept frequently under my sermons ; and 
was found uniformly, when we called upon him, reading the 
Scriptures : so that the most sanguine hopes were entertained 
concerning him. But, alas ! it was the morning cloud and the 
early dew which passeth away. The whole gradually wore off, 
and terminated in a sort of skeptical, sneering apathy. He con- 
tinued, however, much attached to me, and did not object to 
my views of Christianity ; and 1 only speak what many thought 
£md said, w^hen I state, that it seemed probable, that, by a little 
politic management, I might have inherited his property. But 
by nature I was too proud for such an attempt ; and, I hope, 
through grace t was become too conscientious to make the re- 
quisite concessions. I, however, retained the curacy, till, much 
against his wishes, I voluntarily resigned it. 

" After some time, a house at Weston belonging to Mr. C. 
fHiggins became vacant, and was' offered me at less than half 
the rent* (of 1 21) which I had previously paid : and I ac- 

* In fact Mr. II. took no rent of me, but a hamper of pears, annually, from 
a fine tree in the garden, for which ho regularly sent me a receipt. 



1777—1780.] LETTERS. 87 

cordingly retnoved to it. — In this village two sons were born 
to me, one of whom died an infant, and the other, of the same 
name, (Thomas,) is now minister of the episcopal chapel of 
GaXvcott, in the parish of Buckingham. Some time after I 
removed to the house just mentioned, I had three children 
living : but two were taken from me within a very short time, 
and John, the only surviving one, was so dangerously ill, that 
his life was not expected. My heart was overwhelmed : but, 
after very much prayer, I felt my will submissive, and was 
resigned to part with him also, unless it should please God to 
spare him to do some good in the world. He shortly after 
recovered ; and, I trust, was spared for usefulness. — But I have 
here anticipated ; as some things about to be stated, occurred 
before these events" 

In the last-mentioned incident, my dear father records wiiat 
deeply and lastingly affected his own mind, and what he has 
often, in relating it, made affecting to the minds of others — 
particularly of him who now remarks upon it. Neither was it 
forgotten amid the solemnities of his dying bed. May the 
prayers offered up under the pressure of the affliction, and often, 
no doubt, repeated afterward throu^ih succeeding years, be 
much more abundantly answered than they have ever yet been! 

He adds, ^' In this situation I wrote and published the 
^ Force of Truth:' which was revised by Mr. Cowper, and, 
as to style and externals, but not otherwise, considerably im- 
proved by his advice." 

On this publication, w^hich has already been repeatedly 
referred to, I shall here make no farther remark, than that the 
first edition is dated February 26, 1779; deferring, with re- 
spect to it, as I shall do with respect to my father's other works, 
whatever observations I may have to offer, to the close of these 
memoirs. 



CHAPTER VI. 

LETTERS BELONGING TO THE PERIOD OF THE PRECEDING 
CHAPTER. 

Here again it may be proper to suspend a little the progress 
of the narration, for the purpose of introducing to the reader's 
notice extracts of several letters, bearing upon the events, or 
pertaining to the times, which we have been reviewing. — The 
following relate to the deaths which have been mentioned, and 
some others with which, about this period, my father's family 
was visited. 



88 LETTERS. [chap. VI. 

To my mother's sister, dated October 19, 1779 : ^^ I have to 
inform you that it has pleased the Lord, who gave, also to take 
away from us our youngest boy, your husband's godson ; and 
thereby to discharge both him and us from our trust. After a 
lingering and wasting disorder, in w^hich the poor thing appear- 
ed to suffer very much, he was released from this world of sin 
and sorrow, and, I doubt not, joined the blessed assembly above, 
to unite in their song of praise to Him that sitteth on the throne^ 
and to the Lamb that was slain^ and hath redeeraed them to 
God by his blood. He died on the morning of September 25th. 
Nature will feel and heave the anxious sigh, but faith looks 
within the veil, beholds the happy deliverance, approves, and 
rejoices ; and I trust we both are enabled to say from our hearts, 
Tlie Lord gave^ and the Lord hath taken away : blessed be the 
name of the Lord. — So long as the poor infant was among the 
number of the sufferers, it was a sharp trial to us both ; but 
when he was released, I believe, in our better judgment, we 
both rejoiced. — But I am speaking all these things to one who 
knows not experimentally a parent's heart, and, if I can judge 
by myself, and my way of thinking before I was a parent, I can 
fancy you saying, '• There is no such great loss, nor such a 
mighty resignation, in being willing to part with a little infant, 
that seems well out of the way.' Thus 1 used to think : but it 
comes nearer a parent's heart than you can imagine ; and it 
would be no easy matter to me to resign patiently to this loss, 
were it not, that I assuredly believe that, as the Lord knows 
best what is good for me, so he is engaged by promise to make 
all work together for my good ; and were I not also assured, 
(which too often one cannot be concerning deceased persons,) 
that he is now a blessed spirit in heaven ; from whence, if they 
in heaven have knowledge of the concerns of those they leave 
behind, he looks down, with a mixture of pity and astonishment, 
to see us so ignorantly, I had almost said, enviously, wishing 
him a sharer of our vain enjoyments, embittered with number- 
less sorrows, and defiled by continual sins. — Death has been 
very busy indeed of late in my family. Within about six years, 
I have lost my father and mother, two own sisters, two brothers- 
in-law, an own aunt, a nephew, and a son. These are remem- 
brances to me to take heed, be ready, watch and pray, for I 
know not when the time is. As such losses loosen our hearts 
gradually from the world, so they also make us feel ourselves 
dying creatures. Hearing of one, and then another, and then 
another taken off by such unexpected strokes, I seem to wonder 
at myself that I am yet spared : and to fancy I see death bran- 
dishing his lance over my head, ready to strike the fatal blow. 
I feel to stand on the brink of a precipice, ready by the slightest 



1777 ITuO.] LETTERS. GC- 

toach to be thrown down into eternity. I seem to hear a voice 
l>ebind me saying, Prepare to ineet thy God. — I bless the Lord, 
this fills me with no uneasy, anxious thoughts. Through grace, 
I trust that, having as a poor sinner, Jled for refuge to the hope 
set before vs m a crucified Saviour, through the sprinkhng of his 
most precious blood, my soul is cleansed from the guilt of all 
its sms : and that I have the experience of what is meant by 
the sand if cation of the spirit unto obedience : and can join with 
Peter, 1st Ep. i. Z — 4. (to \Nhich 1 f^^fer >ou.) and. therefore, 
can say. I know that, when this earthly house of my tabernacle 
shall be dissolved, I hare a building of God^ a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens. And. as to those that be- 
long to me, though they are my closest tie to life, I can never- 
theless leave them with satisfaction in the hands of that God, 
who hath fed me all my life long, and who hath ^aid. Leave thy 
fatherless children with me, and I will preserve them alive; 
and let thy widows trust in me. — Howe\er. you will observe 
that 1 am at present in a very tolerable state of health, and no 
more like dying, than at any other time in my whole life : 
and, though we may not argue from such reasons, yet I some- 
times fancy, that the Lord has souiewhat more for me to do. 
before he takes me to that rest reserved for the people of God. 
— However, this habitual frame of mind, which my own fre- 
quent sickness, and so many instances of mortality have brought 
me into, doth very much mortify me to this world, ^nd I cannot 
but w onder to think of my former castle-buildinsr frame of 
mind, when, with eager hopes and sanguine expectations, I 
was forming schemes of satisfying and durable happiness in 
such a vain uncertain world. My dreanis and visions are now- 
vanished like a morning cloud. I find now that neither riches, 
nor preferment, nor reputation, nor pleasure, nor any worldly 
good, can afford that happiness 1 w as seeking. I bless the 
Lord, I did not discover the cheat, nor lose the shadow, before 
I found the substance. I did not discover alJ else to be vanity 
and vexation of spirit, until I found out that to fear God and 
keep his comTnandments is the whole duty of man. Oh how 
many thousands, that, hke him in the Gospel who never lifteil 
up his eyes till in hell, never find their sad mistake till it is too 
late 1 When I look around upon a busy, bustling world, 
eagerly pursuing vanity and courting disappointment, neglect* 
ing nothing so much as the one thing needful : and who, ia 
order to have their portion in this life, disresrard the world t^ 
come, and only treasure up wrath against the day of wrath ; it 
makes me think of a farmer, w^ho should, with vast labour, 
cultivate his lands, and gather in his crop, and thresh it out, 
and separate the corn from the chaff, and then sweep the corn 

8* 



90 LETTERS. [OHAP. VI. 

out upon the dunghill, and carefully lay by the chaff? Such a 
person would be supposed mad : but how faint a shadow 
would this be of his madness, who labours for the meat that 
perisheth, but neglects that which endureth unto everlasting life ! 
— This is all unpremeditated : I must leave you to apply it. 
It is a madness the whole race of men labours under, unless and 
until divine grace works the cure : until it may be said of us, as 
of the returning prodigal, When he came to himself he said^ dfc. 
— You will excuse, I hope, the mention of such important sub- 
jects. My only apology is, that we are creatures formed for 
eternity : and my wish and prayer are, that, whether we meet 
on earth or not, we may spend eternity together in heaven. If 
we are all in the right way, we do well to encourage and quick- 
en one another ; and, if otherwise, the sooner we set out the 
better." 

The following passages relate to a death which still more 
deeply affected him. 

To his elder sister. May 30, 1780. " The occasion of my 
writing is to inform you, that the Lord has been pleased to take 
my poor dear daughter from me by a sudden stroke. She was 
in perfect health, and a breathless corpse, within less than eigh- 
teen hours. ... A sweeter child and dearer to her parents' 
hearts could scarcely be : and, while I looked upon her promi- 
sing advances in knowledge, and apparently Christian converse, 
tempers, and conduct, (which were almost incredible,) I pro- 
mised myself great comfort in her ; and did not understand, that 
the Lord, by bringing her forward so very much beyond her 
years, was only preparing her for himself, and ripening her for 
glory. — But I shall say no more of her. If ever we meet, and 
you desire it, I can give you an account of such things concern- 
ing her, as will surprise you. This is my great comfort." 

It will no doubt surprise the reader to be informed, that this 
is written concerning a child only four years and a half old. 
But it is implied that the case was extraordinary : my father 
always considered it as the most remarkable that had fallen 
under his own observation ; and he has left a short memorial 
of it, which will be annexed to the present publication. But I 
here subjoin an extract of another letter, to which the prece- 
ding gave occasion. 

To the same, July 6, 1 780. " Concerning my poor dear babe 

truly I grieved, and felt more than ever I felt before of 

that grief, which springs from being bereaved of one much be- 
loved : and my heart bleeds, if I may thus speak, at every re- 
membrance of her. But I do not grieve as one without hope : 
hope of meeting her in glory, and spending a joyful eternity to- 
gether. — I do not grieve so as to indulge grief or complaining, 



1777 — 1780.] LETTERS. 91 

or think (with Jonah,) I do well to he angry ^ because my dar- 
ling gourd is withered. God hath done well and wisely, and 
graciously ; and, whilst my heart is pamed, my judgment is 
satisfied. I do not now wish it otherwise. She might have 
lived in some way or other, to have filled my soul with unmixed 
bitterness, and to have brought down my grey hairs (if I live to 
grey hairs,) with sorrow to the grave. — I do not grieve so as 
not to rejoice : rejoice to recollect what 1 cannot now particu- 
larize of her amazing understanding and answers, teachable- 
ness and conscientiousness ; which makes me not doubt that she 
was, in a measure, hke John the Baptist, taught by the Holy 
Ghost from her mother's womb : for none could speak and act 
as she did but by the Holy Ghost : — rejoice, to think that I 
have two children adopted into God's family, taken home to 
his house, and filled with his love. It is a high honour, and I 
ought to rejoice in it. Dearly as I love my only remaining 
babe, and much as I long to keep him, I had rather see him 
die, as my poor dear girl did, than live rich and honoured, with- 
out he live the life of a true Christian. — She has got free from 
all that I long to be delivered from ; and has attained all I am 
longing for. / shall go to her^ but she shall not return tome, — 
You mention the supposed loss of your sweet babes. Whilst 
I pray God to preserve them to you, and you to them, l can- 
not but advise you to rejoice in them with trembling, and to be 
often preparing, in thinking and praying concerning it, for a 
separation : for we are tenants at will concerning all our com- 
forts. — When you call them sweet innocent creatures, I hope 
you only mean comparatively, and to our apprehensions ! not 
forgetting the words of our Catechism, that we are ' born in 
sin and the children of wrath.' The youngest needs the blood 
of Christ to wash away the guilt, and the Spirit of Christ to 
cleanse away the pollution of sin, and they should be taught, 
as soon as they know any thing, to consider themselves as sin- 
ners, and to pray for the pardon of sin, and a new heart and 
nature, in and through Jesus Christ. This my poor babe did 
by herself alone, as duly as the morning and evening came. — • 
But enough, and probably too much of this, which I hope you 
ivill not take ill. . . ." 

One of the " brothers-in-law," of whose death mention has 
been made in the above extracts, was the husband of my father's 
eldest sister, Mrs. Webster, to whom so many of his letters 
are addressed. She had been married only five years, and was 
now left (September, 1779,) with two children, and the near 
prospect of the birth of a third ; besides many other difficul- 
ties to struggle with. These circumstances, of so beloved a 
relative, naturally called forth all the tender sympathies of my 



92 LETTERS. [chap. VI. 

father's heart ; and he wrote to her several letters full of affec- 
tionate condolence, and wise and Christian counsel. Some of 
them I should with pleasure insert, were I not restrained by the 
fear of extending my extracts beyond due bounds. 

We have seen the spirit with which my father, at this period, 
bore several trials of one class ; I shall next furnish specimens 
of the temper which he manifested under those of another de- 
scription. 

Intimations have already appeared, that the change, which 
had taken place in his rehgious views, was not agreeable to 
others of his family besides his deceased father. In this re- 
spect he, for a considerable time, sufifered an affliction, in which, 
as in almost all others, those who are exercised with it, may 
derive comfort from reflecting, that the Divine Redeemer learn- 
ed by experience to sympathize with his followers. Of him it 
is written, " Neither did his brethren believe in him." Happi- 
ly there is the less reason, in the present instance, for being re- 
strained by delicacy from adverting to this subject, because all 
the parties referred to were ultimately brought to an acquies- 
cence in their brother's sentiments ; and those, in particular, 
with whom we are here most concerned, eventually bore that 
regard for his character, and that love to his principles, that I 
am persuaded they would have wished nothing to be withheld 
which might advantageously illustrate the one, or tend to pro- 
mote the other ; even though it should cast a little passing 
blame upon themselves. 

A letter of October 13, 177B, to his eldest sister, which 
makes mention of ''• a very bad and dangerous illness after his 
return from London," and also of ''^ finding so much writing 
very prejudicial to his health," contains farther intimations of 
the kind alluded to ; and at the same time well illustrates the 
very prudent and proper course which he pursued, and which 
indeed the progress of his own mind naturally suggested to 
him, in treating with his correspondent upon the subject near- 
est his heart. 

'^ You seemed to think, when you were with us, that I want- 
ed to impose a set of notions upon you in religion ; but that is 
not my aim. If you ask me what my belief is, I am willing to 
declare it : but otherwise I have no ambition to make proselytes 
to an opinion. My design is to make converts to the substan- 
tial duties of a religious and godly life : to persuade people 
that eternity is of most consequence : that they ought not to be 
so careful and troubled about many things, as to neglect the 
one thing needful : that our religion is all contained in the Bi- 
ble : that we ought to read that book not only to learn what to 
do, but what to believe j that God is the giver of wisdom j 



1777 1780.] LETTERS. 03 

the Holy Spirit the teacher of the truth : that, before we un- 
derstand the Scriptures aright, we must have our minds opened 
and prepared by the Spirit of God — for the natural man recei- 
vetk not the things of the Spirit of God ^ for they are foolishness 
unto hi?n^ neither can he know them^ because they are spiritually 
discerned : — in short, that we are to trust in the Lord with all 
our hearty and not to lean to our own understanding : that there- 
fore we ought to be constant in prayer to God, that he would 
teach us the true way of salvation — for his secret is with them 
that fear him^ and he will show them his covenant : — that he 
would preserve us from mistake, lead us to know his truth, free 
us from prejudice, and pride, and give us that true wisdom 

w^hich is from above. Three years and a half I have day by 

day, and many times a day, done this. Since I did so, I have 
found myself much changed in my views and notions of reli- 
gion : and, as I am comfortably assured that the Lord hath 
heard and answered my prayers ; and as I not only feel the ef- 
fect of it in myself, but see the effect cf the alteration of my 
preaching, in the very wonderful change of many profligate sin- 
ners to a sober, righteous, and godly hfe ; I therefore, wherein 
I suppose I was before wrong myself, hint it to you and others 
dear to me If you think differently from me, you cannot deny 
that the means I prescribe are right, safe, scriptural, and a duty. 
There I leave it. I profess to believe it the Lord's work : when 
I have used the means, I leave it to him : and my daily, and 
more than daily prayer for you, all and every one, is, that the 
Lord would set you right where wrong ; teach you where ig- 
norant ; guide you to the knowledge of his saving truth ; and 
fulfil all his gracious promises, spiritual and temporal, to your 
souls and bodies. — I should be glad if you would say a few words 
on this subject ; if not, I must be satisfied to leave it where it 
is. We any of us may be wrong, and therefore we ought not 
to be too sure we are right ; for confidence is no mark of wis- 
dom. It is w^orth our inquiry and our prayer, and you will not 
find me hasty to dictate." 

In a subsequent letter, December 15, 1779, while he antici- 
pates her coming to the same views with him, he wisely says, 
" I have no expectation that this will be brought about in the 
way of argumentation and dispute, which generally do too much 
ruffle the passions, to leave the mind open to an impartial re- 
ception of the truth." He rather expects, " that, under the 
guidance and secret teaching of the Holy Spirit, gradually 
opening her understanding to understand the Scriptures, and 
disclosing more and more what passes in her own heart, and 
what is revealed in the Bible, she will seem to discover it of 
herself.". 



94 LETTERS. [chap. VI, 

And in a third, dated a month afterward, he says, " Your let- 
ter, though written not without suspicions that I should disap- 
prove it, is the most comfortable one I have ever received from 
you since my views of rehgion were changed ; as it leaves me 
little doubt that the Lord is leading you, in the same gradual 
manner he led me, to a spiritual and experimental acquaintance 
with the truth as it is in Jesus !" 

Yet, still later than this, he mournfully laments the neglect 
into which he had fallen with his relations on account of his re- 
ligious principles ; not excepting even those sisters with whom 
he had long maintained such full and intimate correspondence. 
" It is no small concern to me," he says, '•'- that you, and in- 
deed all my relations, should have entirely forgotten that there 
is such a person as I am. If, indeed, you do think me mis- 
taken, then pray for me that the Lord may set me right, and 
recover me ; and now and then let me hear something from 
you, if you be weary of mentioning religion.-— indeed I do not 
forget you, not a day passes but 1 make mention of you in my 
prayers, nor a post night comes, but it occurs to my mind, that 
formerly I used to hear from you. ... I long to hear of your 
welfare, and should be glad to contribute to it ; nor do I yet 
despair, that we shall one day be of one mind where we most 
differ : for I do most sincerely beseech the Lord to lead me 
right wherever I mistake, and to lead you right wherever you 
mistake ; and I beg of you to make the same request. And I 
hope he regards and will answer : and then, w^herever we are 
either of us wrong, we shall both be brought right at last, and 
meet like-minded in heaven." 

And yet again : '•'' When I receive no answer for a long time, 
I cannot but be discouraged, and led to suspect that the reason 
why my friends do not write, is, that they do not desire my let- 
ters ; and this keeps me from writing except ! have business. 
Otherwise I will assure you, that one post-night after another 1 
have complained with a sorrowful heart, that all my relations 
were weary of me." 

These extracts, and several things which have preceded, 
may, perhaps, present my father to some readers in a new point 
of view. A certain roughness of exterior impressed many per- 
sons with the idea that he was harsh and severe. It was re- 
served to those who knew him more intimately, to be fully 
aware how kind and feeling a heart he carried within ; a heart 
which Christian principles, while they fortified the natural firm- 
ness of his character, made continually more and more tender 
and affectionate, and that, as his latter days advanced, to a de- 
gree that it is scarcely possible to express." 

But, besides this effect of these extracts, I willingly promise 



1777 — 1780.] LETTEHs. 95 

myself that they may prove m various ways, useful to many 
readers. Some may be taught by them what to expect, and be 
admonished to ''■ count their cost," in professing themselves to 
be Christ's disciples. There is an opposition in the human 
heart to the principles of his religion, really received and acted 
upon, which no bonds of relative affection can overcome : and 
hence he assures us, that, '-'' if we love father or mother more 
than him, we cannot be his disciples." To others, they may 
suggest important hints on the proper manner of conducting 
themselves under trials of this kind. Let them neither be 
^^ ashamed of Christ's words," nor too impetuously obtrude 
them upon unwilling hearers. The caution will be doubly 
needful, towards persons filling the superior relations in life. — 
And to all who are endeavouring to pursue a right course them- 
selves, and longing, after beloved relatives, ^' in the bowels of 
Jesus Christ," these passages, compared with the result, which 
has been already stated, may afford great encouragement. Let 
them always remember the reply of the Christian bishop, to the 
weeping mother of St. Augustine, ^^ the child of so many pray- 
ers can never be lost!" 

But the most pleasing proof of the happiness as well as be- 
nevolence, which religion diffused over my father's mind at 
this period, is furnished bv a letter to his younger sister, Mrs. 
Ford, dated July 27, 1779. 

^^ Hitherto," he says, "T have kept silence, yea^ even from 
good words : hut it was pain and grief to me,:... I would, how- 
ever, once more remind you, that you have a brother — who 
was no hypocrite when he assured you that he loved you, at 
least as well as any relation that he had in the world, his wife 
and children excepted ; that your interest and welfare were 
always near to his heart : that he would have been glad, if it 
had pleased God, to have had it in his power to evidence this 
to you by some important service ; that his love is not waxed 
cold, ftor in the least diminished, but the contrary ; that he 
loves you as well, and wishes you better than ever ; and that, 
seeing he can do nothing else, he never forgets, in his daily 
prayers, to commend you and yours, soul and body, to the love, 
care, and blessing of his God and Saviour*. — Dear sister, I can 
truly say with Paul, that / have continued sorrow and heaviness 
in my heart., for my brother according to the flesh : but on 
account of none so much as you. All the rest, though not 
seeing with my eyes, are friendly and civil, and not wilhng 
<iuite to give me up : but you have totally turned your back to 
me : — the favourite sister, whose heart seemed as closely knit 
to mine by the dearest and most confidential friendship, as the 
nearest relative ties ! The very thought brings tears into my 



96 LETTERS. [chap. VJ. 

eyes, and I weep while I write to you. And what have I done 
to offend you ? — It has pleased the Lord, through my study of 
his word, with prayer for that teaching which he hath promised, 
to lead me to a different view of the gospel of Jesus Christ, 
than I had embraced : and not only so, but to lead me from 
seeking the favour of the world, and my own glory, to seek 
God's favour, aim at his glory, and derive happiness from him. 
A happiness I have therein tasted, to which I was before a 
stranger — that peace of God which passeth all understandings 
and which as much excels, even in this world, any thing I had 
before experienced, as the cheering constant light of the noon- 
day sun exceeds the short-lived glare of a flash of lightning, 
which leaves the night more dark and gloomy than before. 
Having found that good I had long been seeking in vain, I was 
desirous to tell all I loved, in proportion as I loved them, what 
the Lord had done for me, and how he had had mercy on me ; 
that they might find, what I knew they too were seeking, true 
happiness. Come^ taste and see how gracious the Lord is^ and 
how blessed they are that put their trust in him^ was the lan- 
guage of my heart. But, for want of experience and prudence, 
forgetting my own principle, that none can come to Jesus ex- 
cept he be taught of God, (John vi. 44 — 46,) I was much too 
earnest, and in a hurry : said too much, and went too far : and 
thus, out of my abundant love, surfeited you. Forgive me 
this wrong ! It was well meant, but ill judged, and worse re- 
ceived. O my 'dear sister, I wish you as happy as I am my- 
self, and I need wish you no happier in this world. To call 
God my father ; to confide in his love ; to reahze his powerful 
presence ; to see by faith his wisdom choosing, his love provi- 
ding for me, his arm protecting me ; to find him, (my sins not- 
withstanding,) reconciled to me, and engaged to bless me ; to 
view him seated on a throne of grace, bowing his ear to my 
poor prayers, granting my requests, supplying my wants, sup- 
porting me under every trial, sweetening and sanctifying every 
trouble, manifesting his love to me, and comforting me by his 
Holy Spirit ; to look forward to Heaven as my home ; and to 
be able to say at night, when I go to rest. If I die before morn- 
ing, I shall be with my gracious Lord, to enjoy his love for 
ever : This is my happiness ; and what is there in the world 
worth comparing with it ? 

* Let worldly mirids the world pursue, 

It has no charms for me ; 
Once I admirM its trifles too, 

But grace has set me free.' 

— Peace with God, peace of conscience, peace in my family, 
peace with all around me — these are the blessings of peace 



1777—1780.] LETTERS. 97 

which God gives his people. May God give them to you ! — I 
say no more upon doctrines : only search the scriptures, and 
pray to be taught of lod. — If I have said too much this time 
on the subject, I will say less next letter. Only acknowledge 
me as a brother, and do not quite disown me as an incorrigible 
fanatic, because I believe the Scriptures, and exhort you to read 
them, and pray to understand them. . . 

'^ 1 have written a book, now in the press, which will be pub- 
lished in three weeks time, giving an account of the grounds 
and reasons of the change you so much wonder at ; chiefly for 
the use of my former friends. As you used not to consider me 
as a fool, do not condemn my book as foolish, without reading 
it, and that attentively : and, where we differ, do make it a part 
of your prayers, that whichever of us is mistaken may be di- 
rected to the truth." 

Writing to Mr. and Mrs. Ford jointly, September 28th, after 
allowing the truth of their position, '•^ that it is possible for a 
person, engaged in the concerns of the world, so to spend his 
time in his business, as to be doing his duty to God and man," 
he makes the following remarks : '^ However, by the way, ob- 
serve, that very few thus manage their worldly business. Of 
this you may judge. He, who thus does his worldly business, 
has it sanctified by the word of God and prayer. He goes about 
it because it is the will of God he should do so. He orders it 
all in conformity to Ms revealed will, as far as he knows that 
will ; comparing his conduct continually with the word of God. 
He depends upon the Lord for a blessing in his undertakings, 
and seeks it in prayer. What the Lord gives, he receives with 
thankfulness ; as a gift undeserved ; as a talent committed to 
his stewardship ; and aims to use it to his glory : not with the 
miser, as a talent wrapped in a napkin, or buried in the earth : 
not as provision made for the flesh, to fulful the lusts thereof, 
with the prodigal : but in temperance, m.oderation, and a libe- 
ral, compassionate beneficence. When the Lord crosses him, 
he submits, and says. It is the Lord^ let him do what seemeth to 
him good : and, when things look dark, he does not murmur 
or distrust, but says, the Lord will provide." 

Another series of letters may also here be adverted to, ex- 
tending from the year 1778 to 1785, and addressed to the hus- 
band of my mother's sister. They are almost entirely religious ; 
but being chiefly occupied in urging first principles, they will 
not furnish more than a few extracts in this place, illustrative of 
the writer's zeal, faithfulness, and spiritual wisdom. 

'^ August 1 1, 1778. Religion was so much the subject of con- 
versation with us when you were in Bucks, that I hope it will 
not be a disagreeable subject of correspondence. I am so 

9 



9S LETTERS. [chap. Vt. 

deeply sensible of the importance of religion, that is, of the 
concerns of eternity, the interests of our immortal souls, and 
the way and manner wherein we may be accepted by a just, 
holy, almighty, and eternal God, that 1 am naturally led to 
think every one as much impressed with the sense of these 
things as I am, though I have abundant evidence that there are 
but very few, who pay much regard to them : and, of those 
who do pay some regard, most are so much blinded and pre- 
judiced by the world, by Satan, and by sin, that their religion is 
one of their own making, and they know little of that religion 
which the word of God proposes to us. You may remember 
that, though I told you my views of religion over and over, 
yet I laid little stress upon that. I told you withal that I did 
not want you to believe them because I taught them, but be- 
cause the Lord taught them. The Bible being the word of 
God, his message to us, able to make us wise unto salvation^ the 
great point I laboured to impress upon your mind was, the ab- 
solute necessity of taking our religion from that book alone, 
and the obligation we are under to search the Scriptures daily 
to know what indeed they do contain ; to receive what they 
contain as certain truth, however man, even learned men, and 
preachers, may contradict them, and however contrary they may 
be to our former notions and conceptions, and how mysterious 
soever some things in them may appear. — The next thing I la- 
boured to impress was, the necessity of prayer in general for 
whatever we want ; but especially, when we read the word of 
God, that we maybe enabled by the Holy Spirit to understand it." 
"January 15, 1779. Whether you know it or not, ([ hope 
you will know it,) before you can serve God with comfort and 
acceptance you need these two things. First, forgiveness of 
sins. You have been sinning against God, in thought, word, 
and deed, all your life ; as we all have. Your sins of heart 
and life, of omission and commission, stand against you, and, 
till they be accounted for and forgiven, your services cannot be 
accepted. Every duty you do is short of its perfection, and as 
such adds to your sins and needs forgiveness. In this case the 
gospel reveals forgiveness, through the blood of Qhn^i^ freely 
given to every sinner who believes. Believe^ and thou shalt be 
saved. Accept this freely, as it is offered, and seek by prayer, 
for faith to believe this record which God gives of his Son : and 
then, your sins being forgiven, you will no longer look upon God 
as an austere master, or severe judge, but as a loving father, 
and will with acceptance and comfort, pay your services, though 
imperfect. For, secondly, you need moreover a willing 
mind, and strength to resist temptation. Hitherto, I dare say, 
Ayou have constrained your inclination in what you have done 



1777—1780.] LETTERS. 99 

in religion : but, if you are brought to faith, living faith in 
Christ, he will give you other inclinations, a new hearty and a 
new spirit^ a new nature. Then his yoke vnll he easy ; his 
commandments not grievous ; his ways, ways of pleasantness ^ 

'^November 2, 1780. May I conjecture the reason of your 
silence ? If I am mistaken, \ hope you will not be offended, as 
I am solicitous about you, and fearful lest by any means the 
tempter have tempted you, and my labour should be in vain: 

which to lose would be a great grief to me, to you an 1 

cannot express what I — Is not the case thus ? When you had got 
home, and engaged afresh in worldly business, and got again 
among former companions, were you not carried away with the 
stream ? Your impressions gradually wearing off, and con- 
science making fainter and fainter resistance, hath not your 
goodness proved like the morning dew, that passeth away?,,.. 
Oh how glad should 1 be to find myself mistaken in this i for 
God is my record, how earnestly I long after you in the bowels 
of Jesus Christ ; that I do bear a truly brotherly affection 
towards you. long for your welfare, and not wholly forget to pray 
for you, and still hope that my prayers shall be answered." 

" January 11, 1781. I rejoice exceedingly at what you tell 
me concerning yourself. I would not say too much in the way 
of encouragement....! have seen hopeful awakenings wear off: 
therefore, be jealous of yourself: be not highminded^ but fear : 
press forward, forgetting the things that are behind, and reach- 
ing forth to the things that are before. But I will venture to 
say, that your last letter has made my heart leap for joy, and 
makes me confidently hope for a happy issue, an effectual 
answer to the many prayers I have, and your sister has offered 
for you.... You speak of the reproach of the world : rejoice in 
it. What, are you unwilling to be put upon a footing with 
apostles, and prophets, yea, with your master himself?'' 

I flatter myself I need offer no apolosry for extracts present- 
ing so lively and affecting a picture of the writer's mind, and 
exhibiting in him already so strong a resemblance of what he 
himself has described, as St. Paul's temper, in the opening of 
his treatise on '' Growth in Grace." '•'- The Apostle Paul," he 
says, ^^ was evidently a man of stronor passions and peculiar 
sensibility ; and, being by divine grace exceedingly filled with 
love to the Lord Jesus, and to the souls of men, his mind was 
affected with the most lively emotions of joy or sorrow, hope 
or fear, according to the tidings he received from the several 
churches of Christ. At one time he complains that he has no 
rest in his flesh, is filled with heaviness, and can no longer for- 
hear ; and that he writes out of much affiiction, with anguish of 
hearty and with many tears. At another he declares that he is 



1 00 CLOSING PERIOD AT [CHAP. VII. 

filled with comfort^ and is exceedingly joyful in all his tribula- 
tion^ being comforted by faith of his beloved children : for now. 
says he, we live^ if we stand fast in the Lord.^'^ — He under- 
stands the apostle, indeed, to ^^ intimate, that these were things 
tvhich concerned his infirmities : and doubtless," he says, ^' this 
sanguine disposition requires much correction and regulation 
by divine grace : but, when it is thus tempered and counterba- 
lanced by proportionable humility, wisdom, patience, and disin- 
terestedness, it may be considered as the mainspring of a mi- 
nister's activity. And, as these united qualifications certainly 
conduced very much to the apostle's extraordinary usefulness, 
so they render his epistles peculiarly interesting to us, in all our 
inquiries concerning the best methods of promoting the en- 
largement and prosperity of the church, and the edification of 
all the true disciples of the Lord Jesus." 



CHAPTER VII. 

FROM TUB FIRST PROPOSAL OF THE CURACY OF OLNEY TO THE 
CLOSE OF HIS MINISTRY THERE. 

^'- In 1780,* Mr. Newton removed to London. When he had 
determined on this step, he proposed to me, with considerable 
earnestness, that I should succeed him in the curacy of Olney, 
which he had sufficient influence to procure for me. f felt great 
reluctance to comply with the proposal, both because it would 
remove me from Ravenstone,— hitherto the principal sphere of 
my usefulness, — and also because, from my acquaintance with 
the leading people at Olney, (where I had frequently preached,) 
and from other circumstances, I was sure that my plain distin- 
guishing style of preaching, especially as connected with my 
comparative youth, would not be acceptable there. I was con- 
vinced that even from Mr. Newton many could not endure what 
I should deem it my duty to inculcate : how then could it be 
expected that they should endure it from me ? — Mr. N.'s per- 
suasions, however, with those of a few of his friends, extorted 
my unwilling consent. But, as soon as it was known, that he 
meant me to be his successor, so general and violent an opposi- 
tion was excited, that he said to me by letter. ^ I believe Satan 
has so strong an objection to your coming to Olney, that it 
would probably be advisable to defer it for the present.' This 
rejoiced me and many others : but our joy was not of long du- 

* Mr. Newton's first sermon at St. Mary Woolnoth's was preached De- 
cember 19, 1779. 



'1,780.] WESTON UNDEEWOO©. 101 

ration. — Let this statement be kept in mind, when the censures 
on my ministry at Olney come under consideration. 

" The person, on whom the prevaihng party at Olney had 
fixed as successor to Mr. N., was, in his opinion, as well as in 
that of all other competent judges, the most improper, that could 
have been selected, being completely antinomian in principle 
and practice. I never saw Mr. N. so much disconcerted as on 
this occasion. But opposition was like pouring oil into the fire. 
He, therefore, gave way, but with a kind of foreboding predic- 
tion of the consequences, at least of some of them." 

The following events, which occurred between the time of 
the proposed removal to Olney being abandoned, and that of its 
being subsequently carried into effect, may seem to exhibit my 
father more as a physician than as a divine : they all tend, how- 
ever, to display his character. 

" Just before Mr. N. left Olney, the small-pox made its ap- 
pearance there, and, in a considerable measure through the in- 
tractable behaviour of the inhabitants, both in opposing inocu- 
lation, (which Mr. N. also disapproved,) and in treating the dis- 
eased persons in a manner which almost wholly defeated the 
efforts of their medical attendants, a tnost extraordinary mortali- 
ty prevailed ; the funerals during the year subsequent to Mr. 
N.'s removal amounting to more than twice the number regis- 
tered in any former year. Through shameful negligence and 
mismanagement, the disease was also communicated to the in- 
habitants of Ravenstone ; and a poor woman, discharging her 
duties as a midwife, was subjected to infection, in a manner 
which lean scarcely now reflect upon without indignation. 
After a short season of exquisite suffering, she died without any 
eruption appearing ; and, being assured by the apothecary who 
attended her, that the small-pox was not her complaint, I 
preached a funeral sermon for her to a large congregation from 
all the adjacent villages ; the corpse being in the church during 
the service. But, soon after, every person who had attended 
her in her illness, and had not previously had the small-pox, 
was taken ill with symptoms indicating that disease. No words 
can express my anguish and consternation at this event. I 
took it for granted that numbers of the congregation at the fu- 
neral would ^oon show signs of infection, and that my ill-judged 
zeal, in preaching on the occasion, would prove the means of 
spreading the dire disease widely in the neighbourhood, and 
*thus furnish an opportunity for abundant reviling to the enemies 
of religion. My alarm, however, was groundless : not one ad- 
ditional person by this means took the infection ; the malady 
was not communicated to any other village ; it spread but little 



lU^ CLOSING PERIOD AT [CHAF. VII, 

in Ravenstone ; and not one person died, except the poor wo- 
man who had brought the disease into the village." 

My father here enters, with more medical detail than might 
be generally interesting, into the history of the prevalence of 
the small-pox at Ravenstone, and of the jail fever at Stoke. 
His observation just made that the former disease "- spread but 
little at Ravenstone," seems to refer only to cases of infection. 
Instances of inoculation appear to have been numerous : and, 
as he had little confidence in the neighbouring apothecaries, 
and none in the nurses ; who adhered to the exploded method 
of treatment, he, of his own instance, called in Dr. Kerr, and, 
"under him," he says, " I was physician, apothecary, and al- 
most nurse. I inoculated none, but some inoculated their neigh- 
bours, and I subsequently directed their proceedings. Nearly 
all my time was for some weeks employed. Meanwhile violent 
clamour was raised against me, and threatenings of an alarm- 
ing nature were uttered, because I would keep the windows 
open in the rooms where the diseased persons lay, and would 
allow those patients, who were able, to walk out in their gar- 
dens, or at the back of the village." 

On the subject of inoculation itself he had also great difficul- 
ties to contend with. Two of his own family, (his only sur- 
viving child and an orphan nephew,) had not had the small- 
pox. He himself was '•^ always an advocate" for inoculation, 
but ^^the prejudices of numbers of religious persons in the neigh- 
bourhood, were exceedingly strong against it." If he should 
adopt it, he knew that his conduct ^^ would be severely ar- 
raigned by many, and on others would have a powerful influ- 
ence. On these grounds alone he hesitated." Yet, while thus 
circumstanced, he constantly attended the sick, as above de- 
scribed. " I kept (he says) an old suit of clothes in a hovel 
at Ravenstone, and before I went among the sick I changed all 
my clothes in the hovel, and I did the same again before I return- 
ed home. Yet I still thought that I hardly did my duty to my fami- 
ly." At length, therefore, he had the children inoculated, and 
procured them lodgings at Ravenstone. '^ They passed through 
the disorder very well, but during their residence at that place, 
(he proceeds,) I met with some instances of such base ingrati- 
tude, in respect of this affair, from those whom I had most la- 
boured to serve, that, in a very ill humour, I returned home one 
evening, deliberately resolved to go no more among the people, 
but to leave them to the consequences of their perverseness. 
While cherishing this determination, the words of the apostle. 
Be not overcome of evil^ but overcome evil with good^ occurred 
to my recollection in a manner which I shall never forget. T 



178071 WESTON UNDERWOOP. 

am no friend to suggestions or impressions^ in the general sense 
of the terms ; but I cannot doubt, that this most excellent 
scriptural admonition, so exactly suited to the state of my mind, 
was brought to my remembrance by the Holy Spirit. (See John 
xiv 26.) It at ouce set me right ; and converted my mur- 
murings into humble confessions, thankful praises, and fervent 
prayers. I persevered in my work and labour oflove^ and the 
event proved highly gratifying and creditable. I never in my 
life spent so much time with such earnestness, in secret and 
social prayer, as during this trying season ; and every prayer 
seemed to be answered and exceeded. I had my vexations ; 
but I would gladly go through them all again, if I might enjoy 
the same proportion of consolation, and get as much good to 
my own soul, and be an instrument of as much good to others, 
as a1 that time. 

" When all had terminated prosperously respecting the ma- 
lady, and calumny on that ground was silenced, a clamour of a 
widely different nature was raised. ^ A poor curate, with a 
family, had spent in medicines and wine, and given in money, 
what was enough to ruin him V Some of the persons concern- 
ed as parish officers, or having influence in parish affairs, might 
easily, and ought certainly, to have set this right. I have no 
doubt that a very large sum was saved to the parish, yet the 
officers paid nothing which they could refuse, not even the well 
deserved fee to Dr. Kerr. Medicines, wine, and money, when 
urgently wanted, were supplied by me exclusively : on subse- 
quent occasions T was generally, and sometimes liberally, aided 
by friends : but at this time all stood aloof. The expense, 
however, was far less than was commonly supposed, except 
that of my time ; which, if calculated at its pecuniary value, 
might be considerable, but can never be better employed than 
in gratuitously endeavouring to do good : and, as soon as the 
objection just mentioned was raised, I received IbL 5s. from 
persons at a distance, unknown to me at the time, and from 
whom I never before or afterward received any thing. This 
more than repaid all my disbursements, and convinced me, that 
there is no risk in expendhig money., in an urgent case., and from 
good motives : and that a penurious prudence., springing from 
weak faith., is impolicy as well as sin. 

'' Soon after these events, a circumstance took place at Stoke, 
with which I was in some measure concerned, (though not 
then connected with the parish,) and which appears to me to 
suggest important cautions. A poor man, wath a large family, 
was allowed by his baker to run into his debt to the amount of 
10Z. ; for which he then arrested him, foolishly supposing the 
overseers would pay the money, rather than suffer the man to 



104 AT WESTON UNDERWOOD. [CHAP. Vlt. 

be thrown into prison. They, of course, disappointed his ex- 
pectation : the debtor was sent to Aylesbury jail ; where the 
jail-fever then prevailed. He took that dire disease. His wife 
went to see and nurse him : he died : she returned home, sick- 
ened, and died : the malady spread in the village, sparing the 
children, but proving fatal to the parents. The neighbouring 
apothecaries in vain attempted to stop its progress. I also ven- 
tured into the recesses of misery and infection, and in a few in- 
stances tried my medical skill, as well as gave spiritual counsel. 
But I soon found that the case baffled all my efforts. I believe 
forty children had been bereft of one parent, and nearly twenty 
of both. I knew the overseer ; I went to him, and remon- 
strated with him, on the grounds not only of mercy and human- 
ity, but of policy ; and succeeded in convincing him, that no 
medical expense which could be incurred was hkely to burden 
the parish a tenth part so much, as this fatal progress of the 
disease was doing. 1 prevailed with him, therefore, to send 
immediately for Dr. Kerr, who came and spent nearly a whole 
day in the service ; and he laid down such rules for the ma- 
nagement of the patients, that not one afterward died, and the 
disease was speedily extirpated. 

" The same fever had broken out in the jail at Northampton, 
as well as at Aylesbury ; but Dr. Kerr having, as a surgeon in 
the army, had much experience in diseases of this nature, in 
camps, garrisons, and military hospitals, so effectually counter- 
acted it, that it was soon expelled, and few deaths occurred." 

It may be remarked, that Dr. Kerr formed so favourable an 
opinion of my father's medical talent, that he frequently urged 
him to change his profession, and would never himself give his 
directions to any other person when he was present. 

He proceeds : ^' For myself, I was much exposed to infec- 
tion in this case, but I was preserved : and I never on any oc- 
casion received harm from visiting persons afflicted with infec- 
tious disorders, except in one instance, in which I had a very 
severe fever : but I was mercifully carried through it. 

" In this instance, which happened, I believe, before those 
above related, an incident occurred, on which I never can re- 
flect without astonishment : but I venture my credit for veraci- 
ty on the exact truth of it. A poor man, most dangerously ill, 
of whose religious state I entertained some hopes, seemed to me 
in the agonies of death. I sat by his bed for a considerable 
time, expecting to see him expire : but at length he awoke as 
from sleep, and noticed me. I said, ^ You are extremely ill.' 
He replied ; ' Yes ; but I shall not die this time.' I asked the 
ground of this extraordinary confidence, saying that I was per- 



1781 1785.] RESIDENCE AT OLNEl. 105 

suaded he would not recover. To this he answered : ' I have 
just dreamed that you, with a very venerable looking person, 
came to me. ^ He asked you what you thought of me. ' What 
kind of tree is it? Is there any fruit?' You said, ^ No : but 
there are blossoms.' ^ Well then,' he said, ^ I will spare it a 
little longer.' All reliance upon such a dream, I should, in 
other circumstances, have scouted as enthusiasm and presump- 
tion : but it so exactly met my ideas as to the man's state of 
mind, — which, however, I had never communicated to him ; 
and the event, much beyond all expectation, so answered his 
confidence, by his recovery ; that I could not but think there 
was something peculiar in it. 

" On his recovery, this man, for a time, went on very well : 
but afterward he gave up all attention to religion, and became 
very wicked : and, when I reminded him of what has been now 
related, he treated the whole with indifference ; not to say with 
profane contempt. But I have since learned, from very good 
authority, that, after I left that part of the country, he was again 
brought under deep conviction of sin ; recollected, and doleful- 
ly bemoaned his conduct towards me, and with respect to his 
dream ; and became a decidedly religious character ; and, if 
this be true, his case certainly furnishes a most striking in- 
stance, as of the force of human depravity, so also of the long 
suffering and tender mercy of our God I believe he is still 
living at Stoke Goldington. 

'''• After Mr. Nfe^j^ton had left Olney about a year, his predic- 
tions concerning his successor were amply verified ; for, having 
embroiled himself with the parishioners, and acted in such a 
manner as to incur public rebuke from the Archdeacon at the 
visitation, the curate, at length, in a pettish letter to the Earl 
of Dartmouth, patron of the living, threatened to rehnquish his 
charge. He probably did not mean to be taken at his word ; 
but his Lordship, communicating with the vicar, his imphed 
resignation of the curacy was admitted, and a deputation, in- 
cluding some of the persons who before opposed my succeeding 
Mr. Newton, was sent to me, earnestly requesting me to accept 
the vacant situation. I felt great reluctance to comply, hesi- 
tated for some time, and went to London to consult those mini- 
sters with whom I had any acquaintance. They all considered 
it as my duty to accede to the proposal ; which I accordingly did. 
But, as soon as the late curate of Olney knew that I was ap- 
pointed, and had in consequence resigned Ravenstone, he ap- 
plied to the vicar, and was accepted as my successor there ! 
Had I foreseen this, I should not have consented to remove to 
Olney : for I knew that he had still many admirers in that 
place, and I was at first full of sad apprehensions as to the ef- 



106 KBSIDENCE AT OLNEY. [CHAP. VII, 

feet of his smooth and soothing doctrines on my Ravenstone 
people. But I could now do no more than pray, Lord^ turn the 
counsel qfAhithophel into foolishness ! — for I considered a more 
sagacious opposer than the visible one as the authot of this 
measure. — A temporary confusion and vexation, almost beyond 
description, ensued : but it was not long before all terminated 
creditably and comfortably. 

" The curacy of Olney was only £30 a year and a house, 
with rather better surphce fees than at Ravenstone. For that 
curacy I had received £40 a*^year, and some assistance which 
I could not expect to retain ; and, as before observed, I lived 
rent-free at Weston : so that the change which I now made 
was not, in the first instance, to my secular advantage. The 
people of Olney, however, had been accustomed to raise a sub- 
scription for Mr. Newton, without any solicitation : and the 
managing persons promised to do the same for me. But dis- 
content soon arose : the leading characters did not act : others 
did not come forward : and I was decidedly averse to soliciting 
any party : so that for a year and a half I received less than my 
former income. I was often greatly straitened, and sometimes 
discouraged : but I persevered in every service at the church 
to which the people had been accustomed, and which was prac- 
ticable, though it was much more than could be demanded. 
In particular, I continued the weekly lecture, though very 
poorly attended. 

" And here I would mention, that, after I^lecidedly embra- 
ced my present views of the gospel, and of the Christian mini- 
stry, I constantly preached two weekly lectures, one in each of 
my parishes, without any remuneration. My congregations 
were small but very select : at Ravenstone, on an average, not 
more than forty ; afterward at Olney, (though that town con- 
tained about two thousand five hundred inhabitants,) seldom 
above fifty or sixty ; and at Weston, often under thirty. Yet 
I have reason to think that these services were pecuharly bless- 
ed to others, and they were specially comfortable to my own 
soul. Most of my few hearers I considered as my children ; 
and I gave them, with much feeling and affection, many very 
particular instructions, cautions, and admonitions, which I 
could hardly have introduced into addresses to more general 
congregations, and for which the one, or perhaps two sermons on 
the Lord's day did not allow sufficient time. Were I now 
situate in a village or neighbourhood, in which twenty or thirty 
people would probably attend, I certainly should preach a con- 
stant week-day lecture, even to so small a company.* In this 



•* In fact, my father did so at Aston during a great part of the year. 



I 



1781 — 1785.] RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. 107 

respect, I think, many pious ministers, esteeming it hardly 
worth while to preach to a few, forget the suxaipw^, axaipw^, 
of the apostle,* and lose a most important opportunity of edi- 
fying their little flock in their most holy faith. They preach 
the gospel on the Sunday, at large ; but they do not attend to 
our Saviour's words, teaching them^ (their converts,) to observe 
all things whatsoever I have commanded you. 

*^ Notwithstanding difficulties, I, in one way or other, sup- 
ported my credit at Olney. But I was here surrounded with 
numerous and most distressed poor persons, for whom Mr. 
Newton's more abundant resources, derived from affluent friends, 
had enabled him to do considerable things :t and this added 
to my embarrassment. They were sensible, however, of my 
different situation, and I must say, expressed satisfaction and 
thankfulness for the far more scanty aid which I could afford 
them. 

'^ After I had been at Olney about a year and a half, Lady 
Austen, having come to visit her sister, who was married to 
the Rev. Mr. Jones, curate of the adjacent village of Clifton, 
proposed to take my first floor, and some other accommodation 
which I could conveniently spare : and she accordingly became 
an inmate at the vicarage. This added lOZ. a year to my in- 
come, and saved me some expenses." 

It appears from Cowper's letters as published by Mr. Hayley, 
that Lady Austen entered upon her lodgings at the vicarage in 
the autumn of 1782, soon after the birth of my father's fifth 
child. This child, a son, lived only six months. It was born 
with a mark upon the face, extending over one eye, which 
turned to a sore, and '^ after several distressing weeks," ended 
in mortification. Its death I find thus announced by Mr. Cow^- 

per, writing to Mr. Newton, February 8, 178-3. " Mr. S 's 

last child is dead. It lived a little while in a world of which it 
knew nothing, and is gone to another in which it is already be- 
come wiser than the wisest it has left behind. — The earth is a 
grain of sand, but the interests of man are commensurate with 
the heavens. "J — My father says of it, writing to a friend, ^^ He 
was a great sufferer, and we had in him a great and needful 
trial ; but the issue was mercy. We have, 1 trust, three in 
heaven, and have cause for thankfulness." 

* " In season, out of season." 2 Tim. iv. 2. 

I ^* Be hospital3le," said Mr. Thornton, "and keep an open bouse for such as 
are worthy of entertainment : help the poor and needy : I will statedly allow 
you 200?. a year, and readily send whatever you have occasion to draw for 
more.— Mr. N. told me, that he thought he had received of Mr. Thornton 
upwards of 3000/. in this way, during the time he resided at Olney,"— Life of 
Newton, by Cecil. 



108 RESIDEIVCE AT OLNEY . [CHAr. VII. 

I find from the letter just quoted, that, soon after this event, 
my father visited his relations in Lincolnshire, and derived 
much satisfaction from his journey. ^^ I found my friends 
more cordial, and more disposed to give me a patient hearing 
than I expected, and some of them treading the ways of the 
Lord ; others somewhat hopeful. I had a door of utterance 
opened unto me beyond expectation, and returned home full of 
sanguine hopes that some good would be done by my journey. 
This, it seems, was more than my poor foolish heart could bear : 
there needed some bitter to counteract all this sweet. There- 
fore, my wise and kind physician, (having in mercy brought me 
home first,) immediately discerning the danger, applied the re- 
medy : and I am very base if I do not heartily thank him for 
it." — This remedy was a severe attack of his asthmatic com- 
plaint, ^^ with several relapses." 

He proceeds in his narrative ; '' After Lady Austen had been 
with me for a short time, she learned the circumstances re- 
specting the subscription promised, but not raised for me : and 
she found that several of the inhabitants were disposed cheer- 
fully to contribute, if any one would collect their contributions. 
In consequence, she herself, together with her brother-in-law, 
Mr. Jones, without my solicitation or knowledge, undertook 
to set the business forward. And from this time a regular 
subscription was raised, small indeed in itself, and compared 
with what it had formerly been, but sufficient to be a great re- 
lief to me and to lay me under obligations, which I fear, I 
never was able to compensate in a manner most agreeable to 
my desires and prayers. 

" In the vicarage-house at Olney, during Lady Austen's re- 
sidence there, most of those events which are recorded in the 
life of Cowper, as pertaining to this period, occurred. Here 
• the Task' was imposed and undertaken. Here ^ John Gilpin' 
was told as a story, in prose, and the plan formed of giving it 
circulation in verse. Some things in the published account are 
not very accurately stated, as I know, who saw the springs 
which moved the machine, and which could not be seen by a 
more distant spectator, or mere vivsitant. — -After some time the 
cordiality between Mrs. Unwin and Mr. Cowper, on the one 
part, and Lady Austen, on the other, was interrupted ; and my 
lodger suddenly left me, to my no small regret." 

During her continuance at Olney, Mr. Hayley observes, the ; 
three friends " might be almost said to make one family, as it 
became their custom to dine always together, alternately in the 
houses of the two ladies ;" and it was in order to facilitate this 
constant intercourse, that a door was opened in the vicarage 
garden wall towards the back of Mr. Cowper's premises. 



i7Bl — 1785.] RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. 109 

^' After Lady Austen left Olney," my father says, '• I was 
induced to receive into my family a young lady from London, 
of the name of Ginea, afterward married to John Barber, Esq. 
This proved, I trust, an important event, in the best sense, to 
her, and through her to her family : as well as eventually to 
myself. She continued v^ith me about two years, till my re- 
moval to London, and during the latter part of the time she was 
joined by her younger sister, subsequently the wife of the late 
Rev. Stephen Langston, Rector of Little Horwood, Bucks. 

^^ When I published the ' Force of Truth,' I had never at- 
tended to any controversies concerning church government, or 
any kindred subjects. I found myself a minister of the esta- 
blishment, and as T saw no sufficient reason to relinquish my 
station, I was satisfied that it was my duty to retain it. But, 
soon after, the controversy concerning baptism," whether it 
should be administered to infants, or only to adults professing 
faith, '' fell in my way ; and, for some time, I was almost ready 
to conclude, that the anti-pasdobaptists were right. This gave 
me great uneasiness : not because I was solicitous whether^ 
in the search after truth, I were led among them or elsewhere; 
but because I feared being misled ; and deprecated following 
my publication with a farther and needless change, which might 
bring discredit upon it. — Many, very many prayers, accompa- 
nied with tears, did I pour out on this subject. I read books 
on both sides of the question, but received no satisfaction. I 
became even afraid of administering baptism, or the Lord's 
Supper. But 1 said to myself, ' He that believeth shall not 
make haste : I must retain my station, till I have taken time to 
examine the subject fully : and I must, in the mean time, do 
what retaining that station requires.' — It is remarkable that, in 
this instance alone, my wife appeared greatly distressed, in the 
prospect of my changing my sentiments. — At length I laiS 
aside all controversial writings, and determined to seek satis- 
faction on this question, as I had on others, by searching the 
Scriptures and prayer. I was no less time than three quartern 
of a year engaged in this investigation, before I came to a con- 
clusion : but I was then so fully satisfied that the infant chil- 
^Iren of believers, and of all who make a credible profession of 
faitl^, are the proper subjects of baptism, that I have never since 
been much troubled about it. 

'' This was my conclusion, especially from the identity of 
the covenant made with Abraham, and that still made with be- 
lievers ; and from circumcision being the sacrament of rege- 
neration under the old dispensation, as baptism is under the 
new, and the seal of the righteousness of faith, — Abraham re- 
ceived this seal long after he believed ; Isaac, when an infant^ 

10 



110 RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. [CHAP. VII. 

Ishmael, when thirteen years of age. The men of Abraham's 
household, and Esau, though uninterested in the promises con- 
cerning Canaan, yet, as a part of Abraham's family, and of the 
visible church, were circumcised by the command of God him- 
self. The circumcision of infants was enjoined, with denun- 
ciations of wrath against those who neglected it. The Apostles 
were Israelites accustomed to this system. Adult Gentiles 
were admitted among the Jews by circumcision, and their male 
children were circumcised also. In Christ, there is neither male 
nor female. — Had only adults been designed to be the subjects 
of Christian baptism, some prohibition of admitting infants 
would have been requisite ; and we should never have read, as 
we do, of households being baptized, without any limitation or 
exception of this kind being intimated. — In short, unless it can 
be proved that circumcision was not the sign, or sacrament, of 
regeneration, even as baptism now is, I cannot see how the ar- 
gument can be answered : and all the common objections 
against infant baptism, as administered to subjects incapable of 
the professions required, and the benefits intended, bear with 
equal force against infant-circumcision. 

" The conclusion, thus drawn, rests on this one ground alone ; 
collateral proof was not, and is not, overlooked : but my idea 
always was, that not the privilege of the infant, but the duty of 
the parent, is the grand thing to be ascertained ; and this clears 
away much extraneous matter from the argument. 

"To the question of immersion, or sprinkling, or pouring, I 
never attached any great importance. Immersion is doubtless 
baptism ; and so is sprinkling, or pouring, according to my 
unvaried judgment. If a few texts seem to allude to baptism 
by figures taken from immersion, how many speak o^the bap- 
tism of the Holy Spirit., under the idea oi pouring out upon us ? 

" The investigation of this controversy brought a variety of 
other subjects under my consideration, of which I had not be- 
fore at all thought. I met with many objections to the esta- 
blished church, which I was not competent to answer, except 
by reciprocal objections to many things in use among our op- 
ponents, which I thought at least equally unscriptural. In this 
unsettled state of mind I was induced, by the following means, 
to preach irregularly. * 

" On becoming curate of OIney, I was asked to preach some 
annual sermons which Mr. Newton had been used to preach : 
and this brought me acquainted with several families, chiefly in 
Northampton and the neighbourhood, in which he had expound- 
ed to private companies. When I had ventured on this rather 
irregular service, (in which I had not before been engaged,) I 



1 78 1 1 785.] RESIDENCE AT OLjSEY. Ill 

was drawn on farther and farther, till I was led to preach fre- 
quently, (always on the week days,) in houses and other private 
buildinfi^s ; commonly to numerous congregations. This ser- 
vice was in no degree advantageous to me, in a secular point of 
view, but the contrarv ; and the state of my health, oppressed 
with most distressing asthma, far beyond what [ have now for 
many years experienced, rendered it extremely self-denying. 
I often rode seventy or eighty miles, and preached four or five 
sermons, between Monday morning and ^'hursday noon, (for I 
always returned to my week-day lectures,) while more than 
half the night I sat up in bed, in strange houses, unable to lie 
down from oppression of breath, and longing for the morning ; 
and, on my return home, and sometimes while from home, the 
remedies which 1 was obliged to employ were of the most un- 
pleasant nature." 

One of the painful ^'remedies" to which my father's bilious 
and asthmatic complaints compelled him, at this period, and 
for many years after, to have very frequent recourse, was 
strong antimonial emetics. Another may be learned from the 

following passage of Mr. Cowper's letters. '' Mr. S. 

has been ill almost ever since you left us, and last Saturday, 
as on many foregoing Saturdays, was obliged to clap on a blis- 
ter, by way of preparation for his Sunday labours. He cannot 
draw breath upon any other terms. — If holy orders were 
always conferred upon such conditions, I question but even 
bishoprics themselves would want an occupant. But he is 
easy ^nd cheerful."* 

My father proceeds concerning these irregular engagements : 
'^ I am not conscious that ambition was my motive, though it 
might intermingle : but I hope that zeal for the honour of Christ, 
and love to souls, influenced me. I felt no consciousness of 
blame in what I did, nor perceived, that, in order to consistency, 
it was needful for me to choose one ground or the other, and 
act either as a clergyman of the establishment, or as one 
who had receded from it. I had abundant proof that my ir- 
regular exertions were attended with much success : and I did 
not, as I have subsequently done, see much reason to doubt, 
whether the evident usefulness of these labours, in many indi- 
vidual instances, was not counterbalanced by the hindrances 
which such proceedings throw in the way of other ministers, 
and candidates for the ministry, and by the general obloquy 
which they entail upon the whole body of clergy, in other 
respects agreeing in sentiment with the persons who thus 
deviate from established order. This consideration taken 

-^ Vol. iii. Letter 81 : to the Rev. J. Newton, Sept. 8, 17S3. 



112 ' RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. [CHAP. \1U 

alone, would probably induce me, with my present views, to 
decline such services, even were I placed in my former circum- 
stances : but it did not then occur to me. Gradually, howev- 
er, I became more sensible of the inconsistency and impropri- 
ety of attempting to unite things in themselves discordant, and 
more attached to the estabhshed church ; so that, after 1 had 
been a few years in London, I refused to preach irregularly, 
except as once in the year I consented to exchange pulpits 
with Mr. Hill of Surrey Chapel, that being the stipulated con- 
dition of his preaching a charity sermon for the Lock Hospital : 
and, when I took my present living, (before which T could not 
be said, after I came to London, to have any thing directly 
from the church,) I immediately refused to do this also, and 
determined no more to deviate from regularity. 

" 1 do not say this as blaming those who once belonged to 
the establishment, but have since been induced to labour in a 
different part of the vineyard ; but merely as accounting for 
my own conduct ; and as bearing my decided testimony 
against the practice, at present not common, of holding a living, 
and yet preaching irregularly. The reason applies, in good 
measure, in respect of curacies and lectureships ; but not with 
equal force. As to those who have nothing of the kind, nei- 
ther livings, lectureships, nor curacies, and who preach at one 
time in a licensed meeting-house, or elsewhere, and in a church 
at another time ; I would do the same, were I a dissenting 
minister, if I were permitted to do it. The veto belongs to the 
bishop, not the nolo to the preacher." 

The justness. of most of these observations commends them 
at once to our approbation. On two points, however, I am 
not able to discern the fairness of the distinctions made. I 
know of no engagements into which an incumbent enters to 
comply with estabhshed order, which are not also virtually 
made by a curate or a lecturer : nor can I readily admit, that 
he who holds a situation as a minister, only by virtue of his 
being a clergyman of the established church, can be said to 
'^ have nothing from the church," in such a sense as to be free 
from its rules, and from the engagements which he formed on 
being admitted to holy orders. It appears to me, that who- 
ever avails himself of his clerical character^ continues under 
the engagements which he made in order to acquire it. 
Though, however, I thus venture to question the correctness 
of my father's reasoning on this particular point, I am confi- 
dent that it was perfectly satisfactory to his own mind, and 
implied no sort of subterfuge or evasion. Beyond all doubt, 
he viewed things just as he here states them. 

In connection with this discussion on irregular ministrations, the 



i781 — ^1785.] RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. 113 

reader may perhaps not be displeased to have placed before him 
what has always appeared to me a very excellent passage, on iti- 
nerant preachings extracted from my father's Coaimentary on 2 
Chronicles, xvii.— ^^ Notwithstanding the prejudices of mankind^ 
and the indiscretions of individuals, an itinerant preacher ^ if duly 
qualified and sent forth, is one of the most honourable and use- 
ful characters that can be found upon earth : and there needs 
no other proof that, when this work is done properly and with 
perseverance, it forms the grand method of spreading widely, 
and rendering efficacious, religious knowledge, than the experi- 
ence of the church in all ages ; for great reformations and re- 
vivals of religion have generally been thus effected. It is es- 
pecially sanctioned by the example of Christ and his apostles, 
and recommended as the divine method of spreading the gospel 
through the nations of the earth ; itinerant preaching having 
almost always preceded, and made way for, the stated ministry 
of regular pastors. But it is a work which requires peculiar 
talents and dispositions, and a peculiar call in providence : and 
is not rashly and hastily to be ventured upon by every novice, 
who has learned to speak about the gospel, and has more zeal, 
than knowledge, prudence, humility, or experience. An unble- 
mished character, a disinterested spirit, an exemplary deadness 
to the world, unaffected humility, deep acquaintance with the 
human heart, and preparation for enduring the cross, not only 
with boldness, but with meekness, patience, and sweetness of 
temper, are indispensably necessary in such a service. They 
who engage in it should go upon broad scriptural grounds, and 
dwell chiefly upon those grand essentials of religion, in which 
pious men of different persuasions are agreed ; plainly proving 
every thing from the wcwd of God, running nothing into ex- 
tremes, and avoiding all disputes, however urged to it, about 
the shibboleths of a party. In this w^ay, itinerant preaching is 
a blessing which all, who love the souls of men, must wish to 
be vouchsafed to every part of every nation upon earth. And, 
if those who are in authority would employ select men of known 
and approved piety and ability, protected and countenanced by 
them, to go from city to city, and from village to village, through 
the kingdom, teaching in every place the plain acknowledged 
truths and precepts of the Bible, immense good might be done. 
Those stated teachers, who have been grossly negligent or pro- 
fligate, must either be disgraced or reformed ; others might be 
stirred up to use greater diligence ; and the instructions of sta- 
ted faithful ministers would receive an additional sanction, which 
could not fail of producing a happy effect." — It may be obser- 
ved, that at the period of the Reformation, in the reign of Ed- 
ward VI. a practice of this sort existed in our church under the 

10* 



114 RESIDENCE AT OLJS^EY. [CHAP. Vll. 

sanction of authority. Six eminent persons, (of whom John 
Knox was one,) were appointed to go through various districts 
of the kingdom as preachers :* and that such an office was not 
continued has probably been a great loss to our church. I have 
heard a wise and excellent clergyman, lately deceased, who was 
always a strict adherent to order, lament the mismanagement 
of things in the Church of England, as compared with some 
other establishments. Had Whitfield and Wesley, (he said,) 
arisen in the Church of Rome, that hierarchy would have 
given scope to their zeal, and yet have made it conduce to the 
support of the church, instead of being exercised to its subver- 
sion. 

Before we quit this subject, T would observe, that one in- 
stance of the usefulness of my father's irregular labours, while 
he resided in Buckinghamshire, is entitled to particular specifi- 
cation. It was thus announced to him by his old and valued 
friend, the Rev. Dr. Ryland of Bristol, about a month before 
his last illness. " W hat led me to write now, was a letter I 
received from Dr. Carey yesterday, in which he says, ^ Pray 
give my thanks to dear Mr. Scott for his History of the Synod 
of Dort. I would write to him if I could command time. If 
there be any thing of the work of God in my soul, I owe much 
of it to his preaching, when I first set out in the ways of the 
Lord.' " And the following is my father's reply in his last letter 
to Dr. R., dated Feb. 15, 1821. ''I am surprised as well as 
gratified at your message from Dr. Carey. He heard me 
preach only a few times, and that, as far as I know, in my rather 
irregular excursions : though I often conversed and prayed in 
his presence, and endeavoured to answer his sensible and perti- 
nent inquiries, when at Hackleton. But to have suggested even 
a single useful hint to such a mind as his, may be considered as 
a high privilege, and matter of gratitude. Send my kindest 
remembrance to him when you write." 

It can hardly be necessary to observe, that the person refer- 
red to is the distinguished baptist missionary in Bengal, who is 
perhaps better entitled than any other individual, to the praise 
of having given the first impulse to the extraordinary exertions 
of the present age, for the propagation of Christianity in the 
world. I well remember the late Rev. Andrew Fuller report- 
ing, at my father's house in the year 1 792, the impression which 
had been made upon an association-meeting of his own de- 
nomination, by Mr. Carey's sermon, on the address to the 
church, [Isaiah liv. 2,] Lengthen thy cords^ and strengthen thy 

■''- Burnet and Strype. See M'Crie's Life of Knox, anno 1 ^b'i . 



1781 — 1786.] RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. 1 Ih 

stakes ; from which he pressed the two propositions, that we 
should expect great things, and attempt great things. Hence 
originated the Baptist Missionary Society. The London Mis- 
sionary Society followed ; then the Church Missionary Society ; 
then the Bible Society ; and, in succession, various other insti- 
tutions, all, we trust, destined to contribute their share to that 
great and blessed consummation, 

" By prophecy's unerring finger mark'd 
To faith's strong eye." 

" During this term of my life," my father proceeds, '' I was 
called on, in consequence of its being impracticable for the 
Rev. Henry Venn and the Rev. Thomas Robinson to perform 
a service designed for one of them, to preach a funeral sermon 
at Creaton, in Northamptonshire, for the Rev. Mr. Maddox, who 
had laboured there very usefully for several years. The day 
was very wet, and I rode twenty miles in a heavy rain, to the 
service ; and the same in returning from it ; yet during the lime 
of service it was fair. The concourse of people was very great, 
and the church very small. 1 ventured to go into the church- 
yard, where I preached to at least two thousand ^ve hundred 
persons. The congregation was attentive to a degree seldom 
witnessed : and for twenty years after, the effects of that ser- 
mon were not forgotten, even if they now are. On the follow- 
ing Sunday, I preached twice in the same church-yard to near- 
ly as large congregations : but I never, on any other occasion, 
preached in the open air. 

^' In this connexion, an incident may be introduced which 
occurred at an early period, (but my part in which only now 
became known,) in one of my excursions into Northamton- 
shire. 

"As far back as the year 1776, the Northampton newspa- 
per, during several successive weeks, contained sharp disputa- 
tious papers between two parties of the independent dissenters, 
belonging to the meeting of which Dr. Doddridge had former- 
ly been minister. I felt much displeased with the spirit mani- 
fested in these papers ; and I wrote, (under what signature I 
do not now remember,) a letter showing the bad tendency of 
such discussions in a public print, and of these mutual crimina- 
tions of persons professing godliness ; concluding with the 
apostle's words, if ye bite and devour one another^ take heed 
- that ye be not consumed one of another. ^^ (Gal. v. 15.) The 
consequence was, that in the next newspaper, both parties en- 
treated the writer to come forward, and be the umpire of their 
differences ! Little did they think how incompetent he was for 
such an arduous office, or suspect his youth and inexperience. 



1 16 RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. [CHAP. VII* 

— I took no notice of this proposal. The publisher of the pa- 
per declared his purpose of inserting no more on the subject ; 
the dispute was so far quashed : and, though many conjectures 
were formed, the writer of the letter was never known till some 
time after 1 had removed to Olney. But, being then at North- 
ampton, where 1 lectured in a private family, I, in the course 
of conversation, told some of the principal persons ^that 1 had 
written the letter ; and had the satisfaction to hear them allow, 
that it had indeed proved a word in season.^^ 

In the summer, 1783, while curate of Olney, my father made 
a visit to Shropshire, in company with his highly esteemed 
friend, the Rev. John Mayor, Vicar of Shawbury near Shrews- 
bury ; and was there confined with a very dangerous illness 
of some weeks' continuance. As an extract of a letter from 
Mr. Mayor, written since my father's death, records this event, 
so distressing at the time to his absent family, and will also serve 
as an introduction to some letters which are to follow, I shall 
here insert it. 

^^ My first acquaintance with your father was, when Mr. 
Charles of Bala and I were undergraduates, and spent our long 
vacation at Olney, soon after Mr. Newton's acquaintance com- 
menced with him. I paid my first visit to him the beginning 
of September, 1782, when greatly disturbed with scruples 
about baptizing the children of the openly profane. His inte- 
grity in declining preferment some years before, from scruples 
respecting the Athanasian Creed, induced me to take a jour- 
ney of a hundred miles to consult him, when travelhng was 
very painful to me. — Before I could open my distress on ac- 
count of baptizing, I was led by the assertions of Mr. R to 

say somewhat on the mistakes which many in my neighbour- 
hood, called Calvinists, ran into, respecting points supposed 
to be Calvin's doctrine, which were attended with the worst 
effects on their tempers and conduct. Sin was considered by 
them as a pitiable infirmity, rather than as deserving wrath 
and condemnation. The character of God was clouded ; and 
the glory of redemption, and the dispensation we are under by 
the gospel, not acknowledged to the comfort of returning sin- 
ners. This led into many discussions afterward, which made 
your father say, that he thought my scruples about baptism 
were permitted to bring us together for the purpose of opening 
our minds to each other on subjects which required explana- 
tion. I had my scruples removed by a single sentence. Your 
father said, ^ the right of children to baptism is not their pa- 
lents' faith, but the profession of it, so far as to bring them to 
the ordinance.' Archbishop Leighton was of the same mind. 
— Mr. Scott returned with me after a second visit to Olney, in 



1781 — 1785.] RESIDENCE AT OLNEY. IIT 

the summer of 1783. He was not well soon after we left Ol- 
ney ; and, before we reached Shiffnal, he was oWiged to lie 
down at a little ale-house, while I sent for a chaise, and thus 
conveyed him to Shiffnal, and thence to Shawbury. His Hfe 
was despaired of: but it pleased God to bless the physician's 
prescriptions, and, after almost a month's illness, he rapidly ac- 
quired strength, and preached for me the last Sunday twice, if 
not three times. I drove him back in my gig to Olney, reco- 
vering strength every step of his journey. He had given me 
directions to make his will, and intended to leave me executor. 
to print such of his papers as I should think adviseable : a great 
honour, which I bless God I was relieved from enjoying by 
the happy turn given to the state of his health. I rejoice in 
the many useful years he since spent upon earth, to the edifi- 
cation of his own, and, I trust, of future generations. I paid 
him several other visits at Olney, in one of which I buried, at 
Weston, an infant child of his, a few months old. I missed 
hardly any opportunity of paying my respects to him at London, 
and at Aston Sanford. I always highly respected his under- 
standing, as of the first order : his humility in searching for, 
and readiness in receiving, truth from such as were far inferior 
to him in every thing ; his great sincerity, prudence, and uni- 
form zeal for the glory of God, and the salvation of souls. — 
He was cheerful, with gravity : and never seemed to los6 sight 
of the great business of hfe, to glorify God, and edify his bre- 
thren, and all about him." 

At Olney my father published a Thanksgiving Sermon on 
the close of the American war, preached July 29, 1784 ; and, 
about nine months afterward, his Discourse on Repentance. 
Of the latter he thus speaks in his narrative. 

" The discourse on Repentance was first preached as a ser- 
mon to a very small congregation at Olney, and afterward to a 
very large congregation, (irregularly,) at Paulersbury, in North- 
amptonshire, where it produced permanent effects in several 
instances. I then wrote and enlarged it for the press, com- 
monly with a child on my knee, or rocking the cradle, and my 
wife working by me : for a study and a separate fire were more 
than my purse would allow. I augured much usefulness from 
this work, as did my wife also, far more than from the ' Force 
of Truth :' yet, having printed seven hundred and fifty copies, 
and given away at least a hundred, I do not think the rest of 
the impression would ever have been sold, had I continued at 
Olney. Even of the ^ Force of Truth,' ten years elapsed be- 
fore the first edition, consisting of a thousand copies, was dis- 
posed of 5 though now nearly that number is usually sold in a 



I IB CORRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VHI. 

year.*^ But several persons, who expressed much approba- 
tion of that work, decidedly opposed the Discourse on Repent- 
ance. — So discouraging a beginning had my labours from the 
press l" 



CHAPTER VIII. 

CORRESPONDENCE DURING THE PERIOD OF THE PRECEDING 

CHAPTER. 

Such is the narrative which ray father has left of the princi' 
pal occurrences during his residence at Olney. I shall now 
present extracts of his correspondence which may illustrate the 
course of events, or the progress of his mind, at that period. 

Olney, it will readily be conceived from facts which have al- 
ready met the reader's eye, notwithstanding its having been fa- 
voured with the residence and labours of Mr. Newton during 
sixteen years, was by no means, when my father removed to it, 
a very inviting scene of ministerial service. Indeed, the tem- 
per manifested, when a successor was to be appointed to Mr. 
N., cannot fail to surprise and offend us : and ought certainly, 
as my father intimates, to be borne in mind when his ministry 
there is under consideration. Olney, at that period, was a 
much divided place : the people were full of rehgious notions — 
of that ''• knowledge which puffeth up," — while the " love that 
edifieth" was comparatively rare. There were, no doubt, 
many excellent Christian characters among them ; but, in gene- 
ral, the religion of the place was far from being of a sufficient- 
ly practical character : and it cannot be doubted, that the ex- 
quisite candour and tenderness of Mr. N.'s temper had failed 
of adequately counteracting the existing tendency of things. 
Many indeed were nursed up to a morbid delicacy of feeling, 
which could not bear the faithful application of scriptural ad- 
monitions, even by his gentle hand, without expostulation and 
complaint. 

There is the less need to scruple this statement, because I 
trust, and it was my father's hope and belief, that the religious 
state of Olney is materially amended ; and that that town, in 
some degree, exhibits the rare example of a Christian communi- 
ty considerably recovered from a corrupt state, contracted by 
the abuse of the best principles. — The statement also seems 

* Six thousand copies of a cheap edition have been sold within the 
Jast six months. 



1779 — 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 119 

due to the subject of these memoirs, and it will receive confirm- 
ation from what is now to follow. 

Of my father's first proposed removal to Olney, t find only 
the following brief notice, in a letter to his youngest sister, 
dated Weston, Sept. 28, 1779. — ^^ I have some thoughts of re- 
moving from this place to Olney. It will not be a very impor- 
tant advantage in worldly things ; but it will bring an additional 
care upon me of near two thousand souls. But the Lord will 
provide." 

In less than a month after this, the burst of opposition had 
taken place at Olney, and had produced its eflfect in disconcert- 
ing Mr. Newton's plan, as appears from a letter of his to my 
father, of the 19th of October, 1779. He says, " I am grieved 
as often as I think of the strange hasty spirit that discovered 
itself among my poor people, and which I fear has deprived 
them of the comfort and benefit I am persuaded they would 

have received from your ministry I could not foresee what 

happened : my disappointment and concern have been great, 
but I cannot help it." The mortification of this excellent man 
was not yet, however, at its height ; for the person whom his 
people actually pitched upon to succeed him was not yet in 
view, or at least was not known to him : for he forms other 
plans for them. — He concludes his letter in that strain of 
pious confidence in God which so much distinguished him. 
" What a satisfaction it is to know, that all things are at the 
Lord's disposal, and under his management ; and that in a 
way beyond our apprehension, he can and will overrule them 
for good. I can hardly now conjecture how I once lived, 
when I lived without God in the world. I was then in the 
situation of a ship at sea, exposed to storms, surrounded with 
rocks and quicksands, and without either pilot, rudder, or com- 
pass. Yet I was so stupid that I apprehended no danger. 
But surely, with the views I now have of human life, I should 
be quite miserable, should soon sink under the pressure of care 
and anxiety, if I were not invited, and in some measure ena- 
; bled, to commit my ways and concerns to the Lord, who has 
, promised to care for me. — I rejoice in the assurance, that he is 
I and will be your guard and comforter. My heart wishes you 
' much peace and great success in his service. He is a good 
' master, and his service, though not exempt from trials, is ho- 
nourable and pleasant. So you find it : may you go on from 
j strength to strength 1" 

, Another letter from the same hand, dated July 27, 1780, 
j implies a return in some of the people of Olney to a better 
j mind. " I am glad you have opportunity of preaching some- 
times at Olnev. I hear more and more from thence of the 



120 CORRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VllI 

concern many feel for the share they had in preventing your 
living among them. I hope the Lord will sanctify the present 
growing inconveniences they complain of, to humble and prove 
them, to show them what is in their hearts, and to prepare them 
for a due improvement of a better supply hereafter." 

This letter also contains the first allusion that I find to my 
father's visits to Leicester, where he contracted an intimate 
friendship with the late Rev. Thomas Robinson, and which 
town afterward became to him a favourite place of resort. " I 
have lately had a visit," Mr. N. says, '^ from Mr. Ludlum, who 
brought me a letter from Mr. Robinson ; so that [ have heard 
of your visit to Leicester from others, as well as from yourself. 
I trust the Lord whom you serve is and will be w^ith you, 
statedly and occasionally, abroad and at home." 

I persuade myself that I shall meet with ready indulgence 
for introducing still farther extracts from the letters of this just- 
ly beloved character, whose epistolary excellence is also gene- 
rally acknowledged. February 17, 1781, after my father had 
accepted the curacy of Olney, Mr. N. writes : " Had the cura- 
cy of Ravenstone been at my disposal, I should not have given 

it to Mr. . But such is the Lord's pleasure, and therefore 

it must be right. We agreed that Mr. had done" (occa- 
sioned) '^ some good at Olney. We shall find he will be useful 
in the same way at Ravenstone.... We are short-sighted, but 
the Lord sees things in all their consequences, and has view^s 
worthy of his wisdom, of which we are not aware. How often 
should we spoil his perfect plan were we able : but it is our 
mercy, no less than his right, that he will do all his pleasure* 
Stand still and wait, and you shall at length admire the pro- 
priety of his management in all things. What can we desire 
better than infallible guidance ?....In my Letters to a Noble- 
man, you have descriptions of my heart's feelings and exer- 
cises, to which I can add little now. I am kept, but surely 
it is by the power of God. ^pougoujuisvo^ (1 Pet. i. 3,) is an em- 
phatical word : it well expresses our situation. We are like a 
besieged city : the gates of hell, the powers of darkness, en- 
compass us on every side ; but we are guarded, garrisoned by 
the power of God. The name of the besieged city is, The 
Lord is there. Our defence and our supphes are from on high, 
and therefore cannot be intercepted. Our enemies may, they 
will fight, but they cannot prevail. The captain of our salva- 
tion knows all their plots, despises all their strength, can dis- 
concert and discomfit them, and, whenever he pleases, compel 
Ihem to raise the siege in a moment. We have a good pro- 
mise, Isa. xxviii. 5, 6. So likewise the whole of Psalm xlvi....I 
am daily with you in spirit : your comfort and your success are 



J779 — 1786.] CORRESPONDENCE. 121 

daily near my heart, and I am doubly interested in you, as we 
are both connected with 01ney....The season of the year, as 
well as more important reasons, puts Horace's words often into 
my mouth, O rus^ quando te aspiciam ? It must not be yet, but 
I hope the day will come, when we shall resume our walks, and 
revisit our favourite trees." 

The following is characteristic of the writer, and, at the same 
time, conveys the information, which my father's narrative has 
not given, that, on his resignation of the curacy of Ravenstone, 
unsuccessful attempts were made to deprive him of that of 
Weston also. 

" March 31, 1781. My dear friend, I had written to you, 
and my letter was going off, when your's came, and made mine 
unnecessary, by what you yourself said of the subjects I had in 
view. I then thought I would wait till I could congratulate you 
and Mrs. Scott and myself on your removal to Olney, which I 
hope I may now do. May the good, the great Shepherd dwell 
with you, (be your glory and defence^) in your heart, house, and 
assemblies ! I have been much with you in spirit of late. My 
love to you, if you were in another place, and to the people of 
Olney, if they had another minister, would singly excite my at- 
tention and best wishes : at present, these motives are united, 
and strengthen each other. 
1 " Methinks I see you sitting in my old corner in the study. 
' • — I will warn you of one thing. That room, (do not start,) 
' used to be haunted. I cannot say I ever saw or heard any 
thing with my bodily organs, but I have been sure there were 
I evil spirits in it, and very near me : a spirit of folly, a spirit of 
' indolence, a spirit of unbelief, and many others — indeed their 
I name is Legion, But why should I say they are in your study, 
when they followed me to London, and still pester me here ? 
1 I shall be glad, however, if your house be fairly rid of them. 
\ I am sure they were there once. I hope, likewise, you will 
' have better company when you are there alone, more fre- 
quently than I had. I hope the Lord has sometimes favoured 
1 it with his gracious presence. I hope, if the walls have been 
^ witnesses of my complaints and shame, they have been like- 
1 wise to my attempts to praise him, and to many prayers which 
1 I have offered up for my successor, long before I knew who 
( he was to be. May all, and more than all that I ever besought 
\ him for myself, be vouchsafed to you, and the blessings I have 
entreated for the people, be afforded to them under your mini- 
stry ! 

," I understand the designs of those who would have depri- 
ved you of Weston have been defeated. It is, therefore, the 
Lord's pleasure you should keep it for the present. In this 

11 



122 CORRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VIII. 

view I ought to be, and am glad of it, as I know it was much 
upon your heart. Yet, had He appointed otherwise, I should 
not have been so sorry, as you would probably have been at 
the first. However expedient and apparently necessary your 
serving Weston may seem, it may, perhaps, be the chief cause 
of inconvenience to you at Olney. When you are absent from 
home, the people will be under a continual temptation of mix- 
ing with those, who will do all in their power to prejudice them 
against you, at least against the church. Such a spirit I know 
is very prevalent It is possible likewise that the Weston peo- 
ple may not always be content with one service a day. But 
I know your views and motives are such as the Lord will bless. 
To-day is our's : what is matter of future duty. He will make 
known in his time. I cannot doubt but your labours at Olney 
will be welcome and acceptable to the best of his people, and I 
cannot but hope He will raise you up a new people there, and 
cause you to rejoice in some over whom I have often mourned. 
You desired to follow his leading, and I cannot believe he 
would have led you where you are, if he had not something 
important for you to do. Be of good courage, wait patiently 
his leisure, and He will give you the desire of your heart. 
'^ My mouth waters to come to you : but it cannot be till 

some time, (I know not how long,) after Easter But all 

these things are in the Lord's hand. When I see the cloud 
taken up from the tabernacle, I shall be glad to move ; other- 
wise I dare not. I am so blind to consequences that I tremble 
at the thoughts of forming a plan for myself.— Your prayers 

will be among the means to help me forward A thousand ifs 

may be suggested, but they are all in the Lord's hand ; and, 
therefore, if it be his will that I should visit you, nothing shall 
prevent it. If he sees it not expedient or proper, he will not 
send an angel to tell me so, but he will tell me by his provi- 
dence. If he wills me to stay here, why should I wish to be 
somewhere else ? If we were not prone to prefer our own 
will to his, we should never complain of a disappointment. 
This is the lesson I want to learn. I am so much at teaching 
it to others, that it might be supposed I had acquired it myself. 
But the Lord and my own heart know how far I am from ha- 
ving attained. 

" My love to your new people ; I have not room to particu- 
larize names, but I love them all. Believe me your affection- 
ate friend, John Newton." 

I have one more letter of Mr. Newton's to insert, and I shall 
introduce it here, though rather by anticipation. It is dated 
March 15, 1782. I think no reader would wish it omitted. 



i779 — 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 123 

" This mornins^ I have hope of indulging myself in half an 
hour's pen-chat, with my dear friend Mr. Scott ; a pleasure 1 
could not have sooner, though the receipt of yours made me 
desirous of writing. I thought I had reserved time last Satur- 
day, but unexpected company came in and ran away with it : 
and this is often the case 

^' J should have liked to have been with you at Leicester. I 
love the place, the sheep, and the shepherd of that fold, and I 
love the friends and ministers you met there. I am glad you 
had pleasure and profit in your excursion. I can guess that 
the contrast you felt on your return was painful : for I likewise 
have been at Olney, and have preached once and again, when 
the congregation has reminded me of the scattered ships* of 
jEneas which survived the storm, 

— rari nantes in guigite vasto. 

I likewise have preached at Leicester and Olney in the same 
week, and been conscious of the difference both in numbers 
and attention. I can assure you that, though I put the best 
face upon things, and was upon the whole comfortable, yet my 
chief comfort in my situation there latterly sprang from a per- 
suasion that I was in the post the Lord had assigned me ; that 
he knew I was there, and why I was there ; that, as a sentinel, 
it would be unsoldierly to indulge a wish of being relieved soon- 
er than my commander appointed. I thought, so far as my 
concern was dictated by a regard to the honour of the gospel 
and the good of souls, it was right ; but it was the smallest 
part which I durst assign simply to that cause ; and that all the 
uneasy feelings of Mr. Self, on his own account, were not of 
that importance which he pretended. There were a few who 
loved me for the Lord's sake, and who, I could perceive, were 
fed and brought forward by my ministry ; and, though they 
were but few, I durst not say that their edification and affection 
were not an over-recompense for all the disagreeables. — Such 
considerations as these are present with you likewise. The 
Lord will support you and comfort you, and can, whenever he 
pleases, either make your services more pleasant at Olney, or 
assign you a more comfortable situation elsewhere. I never 
had one serious thought of removal, till the evening I recei- 
ved Mr. Thornton's offer of St Mary Woolnoth. Even then, 
when it came to the point, it cost me something to part with 
them ; and had the proposal been made a year or two sooner, 
I should have found more diflSculty in accepting it. His hour 

^ The classical reader will excuse a slight inaccuracy here, 



124 CORRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VOI. 

and His methods are best, and it is good to wait for him and 
upon him ; for none who so wait shaH be disappointed. When 
I first went to Olney, and for a good while afterward, I had no 
more reason to expect such a post as I am now in, than I have 
now to expect a removal to Lambeth. But the Lord never 
is at a loss for means to effect his own purposes. He can pro- 
vide friends, open doors, remove mountains, and bring the most 
unhkely things to pass. ..And, when we have finished our 
course, if he is pleased to accept us, it will make no difference 
whether we die curates, or rectors, or bishops. 

^^ One thing is needful : but this one thing includes many, 
and may be considered in various respects. The one thing for 
a sinner is to know Jesus and his salvation. The one thing 
for a believer is to live to his will, and to make him his all ; to 
admire, contemplate, resemble, and serve him. A believer is 
a child of God ; a minister is, in an especial and appropriate 
sense, a servant, though a child likewise. The one thing for a 
servant, or a steward in the house of God is to be faithful ; that 
is, to be simply and without reserve, or any allowed interfering 
motive, devoted and resigned to his will ; to have no plan, con- 
nexion, prospect, or interest, but under his direction, and in an 
immediate and clear subserviency to his interest. Happy the 
man who is brought to this point ! How honourable, how safe 
his state ! He is engaged in a league offensive and defensive 
with the Lord of heaven and earth ; and in the midst of changes 
and exercises which can but affect the surface, if I may so 
speak, he has an abiding peace in the bottom of his soul, well 
knowing whose he is, and whom he serves. 

'^ Indeed, my friend, I see, or think I see, such interested 
views, such height of spirit, such obvious blemishes, in some, 
who, on account of gifts and abilities, are eminent in the church 
of God, as are truly lamentable. I adore the mercy of the 
Lord who has preserved you and me, and a few men whom I 
love, from those snares and temptations, by which some, as 
good and wise as ourselves, have been entangled and hurt. If 
I must blame, I would do it with gentleness, well knowing that 
had I been lefl to myself, in similar circumstances, I should 
not have acted better. Ah ! deceitful sin — deceitful world — 
deceitful heart ! How can we stand an hour against such a 
combination, unless upheld by the arm that upholds the heaven 
and the earth.... 

^^ I can say nothing about coming to Olney, but that I am 
willing if the Lord please. If I do, it must be soon after 
Whitsunday : a long while to look forward to ! I cannot move 
without a supply, of which I have no present prospect : but he 
can provide if he would have me go. With him I would leave 



1779 — 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. TYo 

all. It is pleasant but not necessary to see each other. Oh! 
may we see him, and rejoice in him daily : and, as to all the 
rest, Not my will^ but thine be done. So I wish to say. — With 
love to Mrs. Scott from us both, I remain your affectionate 
friend, John Newton." 

I now turn to my father's own letters. The following, ad- 
dressed to my mother's brother-in-law, to his correspondence 
with whom we have before adverted, will show his motives for 
undertaking the cure of Olney, and his view of the service in 
which he was engaging. It is dated Weston, February 15, 
1781. 

'-^ I have undertaken the curacy of Olney along with Weston, 
leaving Ravenstone ; which will be attended with my removal 
to Olney at Ladyday, and a considerable consequent expense 
in furniture, &.c. But, on the other hand, it will, I apprehend, 
be some increase of income, and more of a settlement than my 
present situation ; as I have good reason to beheve I shall be 
presented to the living, when the incumbent dies. At present, 
the curacy, taking one thing with another, is about equal to 
Ravenstone, or rather preferable ; and there have been, for 
many years, subscriptions for a lecture, which have amounted 
to 40Z. or better, but may probably be 201. or 30Z. The Hving 
is but small, 101. per annum, and the house ; and the incumbent 
is very old. [ mention these things because, as relations, you 
will probably wish to hear of them : otherwise, they are to me 
very unimportant. I have this day finished my thirty-fourth 
year. I lived without God in the world for nearly twenty- 
eight : then he did not starve me, nay, he provided well for me, 
though I knew him not, asked him not, thanked him not. 
I have now in some measure trusted, and poorly served him 
the other six years, or nearly, and he has not failed me. Some- 
times he has proved my faith, and made me ready to question whe- 
ther he would provide for me or not, at least in that plenti- 
ful manner I had been accustomed to ; but he has always in 
the end made me ashamed of my suspicions. — Mercy and good- 
ness have followed me all the days of my life., and the same 
Jehovah is still my Shepherd ; therefore I shall not want. I 
do not, therefore, embrace this offer, as if I were either dissa- 
tisfied, or distrustful, or avaricious. I trust the Lord knows 
these are not my motives. The advance of income, (if it be 
any,) is not at all a leading object with me ; but, the situation 
being offered, I verily judged it, upon the most deliberate 
consideration, I trust in the spirit of prayer, my bounden du- 
ty to accept it ; because the vicar of Ravenstone's hfe is very 
precarious, and his death would probably have been foUow^ed 

IP 



126 COBRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VIII. 

with my removal to a greater distance from the place of my 
present abode, and from the people to whom I have been made 
useful, and whom I dearly love ; who will now be near, within 
reach of me, and I of them : because I hope the Lord hath 
some good work to do by me at Olney : and because many 
good people there have been this last year as sheep not having 
a shepherd. At the same time, I am aware that 1 am about to 
be plunged into the midst of difficulties and trials, and shall have 
to regret the loss of many of my present comforts ; that I 
shall need vastly more wisdom, patience, and meekness, than I 
have hitherto attained to. But he who sends me will support 
me, supply me, stand by me, and carry me through. And in- 
deed, I am not to expect that the Lord Jesus has enhsted me 
into his army, and commissioned me as an officer, and given me 
a complete suite ot armour, and directions, and encouragement 
for the fight, and assurance of victory, for nothing. He bids 
me endure hardships^ fight the good fights carry war into Satan's 
dominion, down with his strong holds, spoil his goods ; and re- 
sistance, and conflict, and wrestlings, I must expect. Now for 
the fight, by and by the victory, and then the conqueror's rest. 
He has, I trust, also enlisted you : be not discouraged at the 
number and rage of your enemies. Your captain leads you 
forth '- to conquest and a crown.' He will cover your head in 
the day of battle^ heal all your wounds, renew your strength, 
and at last crown you more than conqueror. 

" Indeed Olney is, f apprehend, as difficult a charge for a 
minister as can well be imagined, and I greatly feel my insuffi- 
ciency ; but if I look to Jesus, I cannot be discouraged ; his 
strength shall be perfected in my weakness^ and his wisdom in 
my foolishness. I must, however, enjoin you to pray for me : 
I have prayed for you long and often, and I trust the Lord has 
heard and taught you to pray ; and now pay me in kind. I 
need this return, and shall much value it. 

u Mr. , (the last minister of Olney,) having set Olney 

in a flame by his contentious behaviour, is to succeed me at Ra- 
venstone, which is a sensible affliction to me ; but the Lord 
knows better than I do, and there I leave it. It will probably 
prevent my future usefulness at Ravenstone. This Satan doubt- 
less intends, but I hope the Lord wnll turn his council into 
foolishness,^^ 

To the same person he wrote July 4th, following : " You de- 
sire me to inform you how I like Olney : but it is impossible. 
I trust the Lord is with me, and I love his presence, and the 
light of his countenance, which entirely reconciles me to the 
numerous disagreeables that otherwise I do and must expect 
to encounter. I am satisfied that the Lord will not leave me to 



1779 — 1785.] COBBESPONDENCE. 127 

be needlessly discouraged ; and, farther, that I shall learn many 
a profitable lesson from the things I meet with : and, if I ac- 
quire humility, meekness, patience, prudence, experience in 
this school, though it be not pleasing to the flesh, the spirit 
will rejoice. — As to the people, they are pretty much as I ex- 
pected : rather more divided. But I cannot tell how things 
will issue. I have taken a farm, which is a good deal out of 
heart ; I am breaking up the fallow ground, ploughing, and 
harrowing, and sowmg : but what sort of a crop I shall have, 
harvest-time will best show. Only I am sure / shall reap in 
due seasonif I faint not. I do not. however, repent coming.'' 

Indications have already appeared of the spiritual happiness 
which my father enjoyed after the settlement of his religious 
views. Several passages also in the Force of Truth, and in the 
Discourse on Repentance, demonstrate the same state of mind. 
This continued for some years, but was afterward succeeded. 
as by scenes of greater effort, so also by more internal conflict. 
He always looked back upon the seven years which followed 
his first cordial reception of Scriptural truth, as those of great- 
est personal enjoyment. The following passages of letters to 
his younger sister Mrs. Ford, may be added to those which 
contain intimations of this kind ; and they, at the same time, 
continue the history of this intercourse with that branch of his 
family. 

^•January 29. ]782. To see you as happy in thsit peace of 
God. which passeth understandings and which through. Jesus 
Christ, keepeth the heart and mind, as I feel myself, is my ar- 
dent wish, and frequent, fervent prayer. . . . On Mondays, Wed- 
nesdays, and Saturdays, I am at your service ; but I preach on 
the other evenings. . . . You may likewise depend upon it, that 
I will not make your continuance at Olney disagreeable by re- 
ligious disputes : for the Lord has almost spoiled me for a dis- 
putant. Waiting and praying are the weapons of my warfare, 
which I trust will in due time prove mighty, throvgh God. for 
the pulling down of all strong holds, which hinder Christ's en- 
tering into, and dwelling in your heart by faith, and bringing 
every thought info captivity to obedience to himself . . . One 
expression in your letter encourages me to hope that we shall, 
before many more years have elapsed, be like minded ; namely, 
w^here you seem to entertain a doubt of your being right, and 
do offer a prayer to God to set you right. Thus I began : in this 
I persevered, and do persevere, and have no more doubt, that it 
is God who taught me what I now believe and preach, as to the 
great outlines, than I have that God is faithful and hears praver 
.... You wonder at my condemning you unheard, and think 
I have a worse opinion of you than you deserve. I will pro- 



128 GOERESPONDENCE. [cHAP. VIII. 

mise you I have not so bad an opinion of you as I have of my- 
self. But the Bible condemns us all, moral and immoraK jy^reat 
sinners and little sinners, (if there be such a thing ;) that every 
mouth may he stopped^ Rom. iii. 19, and the following. Let 
me beg of yuu to read without a comment, to meditate upon, 
and pray over, this scripture, especially that humbling text. For 
there is no difference^ for all have sinned and come short of the 
glory of God, No difference : all are guilty, all condemned 
malefactors, all must be saved in a way of grace, by faith, 
through Christ. 

"June 25, 1782. Two things have concurred together to 
render it not easy for me to write, namely many engagements 
and much indisposition. ... If the Lord be pleased to give us 
(for he is the alone giver,) in the way of honest industry in some 
lawful calling, the necessaries and ordinary conveniences of 
life, just above the pinchings of poverty, and beneath the num- 
berless temptations of affluence, we are then in the most favour- 
able station for real happiness, so far as attainable in this world, 
that we can be ; and we want nothing more but a c<»ntented 
mind : such a contented mind as springs from a consciousness, 
that of all the numberless blessings we enjoy, we deserve not 
one, having forfeited all, and our souls too by sin ; from a con- 
sideration of the poverty, and afflictions of the Son of God, en- 
dured voluntarily for us ; from faith in him, a scriptural hope 
that our sins are pardoned, and that we are in a state of accep- 
tance with God ; from peace of conscience, peace with God, 
submission to him, reliance on him, and realizing views of his 
unerring wisdom, almighty power, and faithfulness, engaged 
through Jesus, to make all work for our good ; together witli 
the sweets of retired communion with him in the rarely fre- 
quented walks of fervent prayer aud meditation. This is all 
that is wanted to make us satisfied, cheerful, and comfortable ; 
rejoicing in hope of complete happiness in a better world. All 
beside, that our restless minds (restless unless and until they 

find rest in God,) can crave, could add nothing to us 

Riches, pleasures, diversions, the pomp and pride of life, are 
not only empty but ruinous — vanity and vexation. The Lord 
grant that we may esteem them such, and despise them. True 
happiness consists in being like God, loving him, and being 
loved of him. All the rest is but a poor attempt of miserable 
man to forget his misery, and to find a happiness independent 
of the fountain of happiness : as if men, being deprived of the 
light and heat of the sun, should attempt to supply the irrepa- 
rable loss by fires and tapers .... But believe me, dear sister, 
it is no small matter to be such a Christian : to deny ourselves, 
renounce the world, crucify the flesh, and resist the devil, 



i779 — 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 129 

though pleasant to him that has once got into the scriptural 
method, is too great a work for the most even of professors : 
most put up with either a round of devotions, in a formal 
way, or a set of notions. But, though there is much dili- 
gence and self-denial necessary, and the friendship of the 
world, and conformity to it, must be renounced : yet the pre- 
sent comforts of religion (I speak from sweet experience,) 
amply and richly repay it. May you and your's experience 
the samel" 

In another letter, about a year afterward, addressed to a 
young woman remotely connected with him by marriage, who 
had spent some time in his family at Weston, and who will 
hereafter be repeatedly noticed as his correspondent in North- 
umberland, he gives counsel and encouragement on the subject 
to which the precedingletter leads our thoughts — the treatment 
of relations not yet brought to that rehgious state of mind 
which we could wish. At the same time we may trace in it 
the germ of that spirit of intercessory prayer, which so much 
distinguished the writer to the end of his days. 

" We seldom, or never, have to repent of doing any thing 
which we have well prayed over, and then acted according to 
the best of our judgment. — I have been but little at home, and 
then have been very poorly in health since 1 received yours : 
so that you must excuse my delay in writing. I do not quite 
forget you and your concerns when at the throne of grace, 
though I cannot say with Paul, always in every prayer. This 
is one among many things in this blessed apostle which I ad- 
mire, that, amidst his manifold and important employments, 
he seems scarcely ever to have forgotten any of his churches 
or friends, but to have been constant, fervent, and particular in 
his prayers for them all and every one. The Lord help me to 
imitate him ! — I can sympathize with you in your sorrow, but 
can give you no other advice or comfort, than what you already 
know. — The Lord is sovereign and owes us nothing : and 
therefore we have abundant cause for thankfulness for what he 
hath, in a distinguishing manner, done for us, but none to com- 
plain of what he denies us. Be still and know that I am God^ 
is a lesson which all his people must learn experimentally. 
Wait the Lord's time,, is another of the same sort. To love 
Christ even more than father and mother, and to desire his 
glory even more than their welfare, (which yet is a duty to de- 
sire next of all,) is another very hard lesson which a true 
Christian must learn. But, when you have made proficiency a 
little in these lessons, you do not know what He who is rich in 
mercy^ in answer to patient, persevering, believing, submissive 
prayers, may do for you. At all events, you know he does 



130 CORRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VIII. 

hear prayer, and I dare venture to say, that your most earnest 
importunate prayers for your parents, are as sweet music in 
his ears ; and that he delights to hear them, as offered through 
the intercession of Jesus. I lament much that there is so Httle 
of this spirit among professors of religion. If ever it become 
general, religion will spread in families and neighbourhoods, as 
fire in a sheaf Where two agree on earth as touching anyt 
thing that they shall ask^ it shall he done for them. Try the 

experiment Though it is very proper to drop a word now 

and then, yet I would advise you to be sparing in it, as it will be 
misconstrued into assuming and preaching. Meekness, atten- 
tion, affection, and every expression of honour and respect ; a 
mixture of seriousness and cheerfulness ; (which be sure you 
aim at — nothing prejudices more than an appearance of me- 
lancholy ;) now and then a pertinent text of Scripture : a hint 
dropped, and opportunities watched, when people are more 
willing to hear than at other times : this, accompanied with 
many prayers, is the line [ would mark out. But the Lordgiveth 
wisdom ; and I doubt not he has been beforehand with me I 
must conclude with wishing you success inthe name of the LordJ^- 

The following letters take a wider range. Besides explain- 
ing more fully the nature of his situation at Olney, they deve- 
lope the views which he had now begun to take of the state of 
leligious profession at that time, among many persons of the 
class frequently denominat<^d evangelical ; which views influ- 
enced the whole of his future ministry. Incidentally also they 
disclose the sort of sentiments which he had formed, and to 
which for substance he ever adhered, on church-government, 
and some other subjects. 

The first (dated April 20, 1783,) is to the Rev. Mr. Mayor, 
who has been already introduced to the reader. 

^^ My very dear friend I would desire to bless God 

for, and to rejoice in the grace given unto you, and that he hath 
given you those peculiar views of the great things of the gos- 
pel, which alone can effectually prevent the abuse of them, and 
accomplish that glorious purpose for which they are designed. 
The moral excellency and beauty of divine things — the glory 
and lovehness of the divine nature, law, and gospel — spiritually 
discerned, are the grand preservative against every error and 
every abuse in religion. This God hath given you, and given 
you to understand the use that is to be made of it, not only for 
the sanctifying and comforting of your own soul, but likewise 
for the work of the ministry. For this I bless God ; and espe- 
cially because in this day there is great need of it, and ^ew I 
fear have a proper sense of it. Sure I am that evangelical re- 



1779 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 131 

ligion is in many places wofully verging to antinomianisni, — 
one of the vilest heresies that ever Satan invented : our natu- 
ral pride and carnality being both humoured and fed by it, un- 
der the plausible pretence of exalting free grace, and debasing 
human nature. But whilst antinomians talk of the grace of the 
gospel, they overturn all revealed religion." — He here proceeds 
to argue that there can be no more grace in the gospel than 
there is equity in the law, and justice in its penalty ; that the 
whole scheme, which derogates from the honour of the divine 
law, cherishes the propensity of our corrupt nature to excuse 
self, extenuate sin, and cast blame upon God ; and that ^^ the 
conversion of the antinomian, notwithstanding all his good feel- 
ings, only leaves him tenfold more a hater of the God of the 
Bible, than he was before. This, my friend," he proceeds, '^ I 
am sure of, and see more and more clearly every day ; and the 
enmity of loose professors against searching, practical preach- 
ing, is full proof of it : and, by God's grace, I purpose to spend 
my whole life in bearing testimony against it ; and shall re- 
joice in having you for a helper In this work we must expect 
no quarter, either from the world, or some kind of professors. 
But we need wisdom equally with zeal and boldness. Let us 
observe that some excellent men, far before us in every other 
respect, have been unintentionally betrayed into some mistakes 
of this kind ; that, therefore, a religion bordering on antinomi- 
anism has the countenance of respectable names : strong preju- 
dices are in most places in favour of it : many hypocrites, I 
doubt not, there are among those who are for it : but they 
are not all hypocrites. We are poor inconsistent creatures, 
and few see the consequences of their own sentiments. You 
and Tare young, obscure, httle, nothing in comparison of those 
who have lent their names to the opposite side. We must not, 
therefore, call them masters ; nor must we conceal our senti- 
ments, or shun to declare the whole counsel of God, The wis- 
dom that is from above is first pure^ then peaceable. We 
have, therefore, need of this wisdom : let us asJc it of God, I 
would recommend it to you, and to myself, whilst we guard 
against one extreme, to be careful lest we be pushed by Satan 
into the other. If we are faithful, we shall be called self-will- 
ed, self-important, obstinate. The clamour we may contemn : 
but let us watch and pray against the thing itself. They will 
say, we speak and act in our own spirit : let us beg of God con- 
tinually that they may have no just reason to say so. They will 
say we are legal : but let us, by preaching Christ, and dwelling 
clearly and fully on the glorious scheme of free redemption, 
and its peculiar doctrines, improving them to practical pur- 
poses, confute them. They will say that our^ scrupulosity' in 



132 COHRKSPONDENCE. [CHAP. VIII* 

practice springs from self-righteousness, and a pharisaical spirit. 
Let us then carefully avoid extremes ; laying too much stress 
on little things ; and censoriousness : condemning false prac- 
tices mainly by our conduct. 1 am persuaded God intends to 
do something for his glory by you, by and by. — Satan hath 
tried to preclude your usefulness, by taking advantage of your 
zeal and honesty to hurry you into extremes and indiscretions. 
The minds of many are prejudiced. It is your trial, and I hope 
you will be the better for it : but watch and pray for the time 
to come. For my part, I make no scruple of declaring my 
sentiments to all I am acquainted with concerning you, and I 
doubt not but matters will be otherwise, if you do but observe 
such short rules as these. First : Do nothing in haste. Pray, 
pray, pray, before you determine. Secondly : Avoid all ex- 
tremes. Thirdly : Be not ^peculiar in any thing which is not 
a case of conscience. Fourthly : Leave outward reformation 
mainly to the magistrate. Your weapons are not carnal. 
Fifthly : Remember that Satan's kingdom is too strong for an 
arm of flesh ; keep your dependence on the Almighty. Sixth- 
ly : Study to improve not only in grace and knowledge, but in 
gifts: deliberate, audible, methodical utterance. Preach as 
you read prayers. Lastly : Though no part of truth is to be 
kept back, yet, some being of greater importance, and others of 
less, dwell mainly on the greater, and only mention the other 
occasionally. — Verbum sapienti. — I take the liberty of a friend ; 
use the same with me Write sooner and longer than be- 
fore : and, if you have any remaining scruples about the church, 
do open your mind to me. Satan would, I think, wish you to 

leave your station 

Your friend and brother, T. Scott." 

As this letter presents only a specimen of those complaints, 
which we shall see frequently repeated in the course of the pre- 
sent work, of a prevailing tendency to antinomian abuse of the 
gospel, among numbers who held many of the doctrines for 
which my father contended, it may be expedient here to offer 
a remark or two upon that subject.-'-Be it then ever remem- 
bered, that, when my father complained of antinomianism exist- 
ing among persons of this description, he by no means intend- 
ed that it was found only, or even principally among them. 
On this subject he thus speaks in the preface to his Sermon on 
the doctrines of Election and Final Perseverance : " On the 
other hand, the Arminian is not at all secured from antinomian- 
ism, nor the Calvinist exposed to it, by their several tenets : 
seeing both of them are antinomian just as far as they are un- 
sanctified, and no farther ; because the carnal mind is enmity 
against God^ for it is not subject to the law of God^ net- 



1779 — 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 133 

ther indeed can it he. Perhaps speculating antinomians abound 
most among professed Calvinists : but antinomians, whose sen- 
timents influence their practice^ are innumerable among Ar- 
minians. Does the reader doubt this ? Let him ask any of 
those multitudes who trample on God's commandments, what 
they think of predestination and election ; and he will speedily 
be convinced that it is undeniably true : for all these, in various 
ways, take occasion from the mercy of God to encourage 
themselves in impenitent wickedness. It would, therefore, be 
unspeakably better for all parties to examine these subjects 
with impartiality, meekness, and brotherly love, than recipro- 
cally to censure, despise, and condemn one another." — In 
short, my father's complaint was not that persons embracing 
these doctrines were worse than others, but that many of them 
were found by no means so much better than others, as he was 
convinced their principles ought to have made them. — The fol- 
lowing extract of a letter, written at a subsequent period, may 
also explain what were the nature and the source of much of 
that leaning to antinomianism of which he complained. " Many 
preachers are not directly antinomian in doctrine, who yet 
dwell so fully and constantly on doctrinal points, and give the 
several parts of the Christian temper and conduct, in all its 
branches and ramifications, so little prominency, that, after all^ 
their hearers are never taught the particulars of their duty, in 
the several relations to God and man, in the improvement of 
their talents, the redemption of their time, &c. They are told, 
in a few words, that they should be holy and do good works, but 
they are left ignorant in what genuine hohness and good works 
consist : and often live in sin, or neglect of duty, for want of 
knowing this and the other thing to be sin or duty." 

The two next letters are to the Rev. G. More, a Scotch mi- 
nister, then situate in the north of England. This gentleman 
appears to have written to him in consequence of reading the 
Force of Truth. 

'^ April 14, 1784. I must frankly observe that I am not much 
attached to externals, being decidedly of opinion, that, had the 
Lord Jesus intended all his people to be of the same sentiments 
about church government, he would have explicitly declared 
it, as under the Jewish dispensation, and have rendered it im- 
possible for godly, reflecting, and judicious persons to have 
diflered much about these things : even as it is impossible for 
such persons much to difler about the method of a sinner's jus- 
tification, or the nature and need of regeneration. Every man 
ought to be satisfied in his own mind about the lawfulness of 
communicating as a Christian, or ofiiciating as a minister, 
in that society he belongs to, and leave others to judge for 

12 



134 CORRESPONDENCE. [CHAP. VLIJ. 

themselves ; candidly supposing that men who are conscien* 
tious in other things, are so in this ; and though they see not as 
we see, yet possibly their eyes may be as good as ours. In my 
own judgment, after, I hope, much serious and impartial consi- 
deration, I am a moderate Episcopalian and a Pasdobaptist ; 
but am entirely willing my brethren should be, some Presbyte- 
rians, and some Independents, and not extremely unwilling 
that some should be Baptists : rejoicing that Christ is preach- 
ed, and the essentials of true religion upheld among persons 
of different sentiments, and only grieved that each one will be 
what he is jure divino^ and judge and condemn others. I 
would only beseech all to leave biting and devouring one 
another^ and to unite together in striving, as so many regiments 
in one army, against the common enemy. My avowal of my 
sentiments on this subject will help you to know your man^ 
and what you are to expect. My post is very different from 
yours. There are above two thousand inhabitants in this town, 
almost all Calvinists, even the most debauched of them ; the 
gospel having been preached among them for a number of 
years by a variety of preachers, statedly and occasionally 
sound and unsound, in church and meeting. The inhabitants 
are become like David, wiser than their teachers; that is, 
they think themselves so, and in an awful manner, have learn- 
ed to abuse gospel notions, to stupify their consciences, vindi- 
cate their sloth and wickedness, and shield off conviction. 
There is an independent meeting in the town, the minister of 
which is newly come among us, and for this and other rea- 
sons is very popular. He is, I doubt not, a godly man ; but 
his preaching does not appear to me calculated to rouse a stu- 
pid audience out of their lethargy. There is also a Baptist 
meeting, the ministers of which heretofore, by dry supralapsa- 
rian discourses, accompanied by little alarming, inviting, 
searching, or practical matter, have done much to bring things 
to this pass. If you are acquainted with the disputes about the 
modern question^ you will need nothing more to be said on that 
system of passivity introduced by the strenuous deniers of its 
being every man's duty to believe. If you have not met with 
any thing on this subject, on another occasion I will write a lit- 
tle more upon it. But the present minister is a solid, judicious, 

and godly m.an, though not an awakening preacher As 

for myself, I am very unpopular in this town, and preach in ge- 
neral to very small congregations. Before I came hither, I had 
two curacies in the neighbourhood, one of which I retain with 
Olney. There I have a people to whom the Lord has made 
tne the instrument of good. They love me, and are a comfort 
to me. They are not very numerous, but so many as to pre- 



J 779 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 135 

vent my complaining that I have quite laboured in vain ; and 
the Lord adds to their number one and another from time to 
time. O that he would multiply them a hundred, or a thou- 
sand fold ! — I have a few even at Olney who cleave to me, 
and a small number of those who are my own : but I labour 
under great discouragement in this respect, and am generally 
looked upon as an unsound, legal Arminian. The truth of the 
matter is, upon mature deliberation I am convinced that the 
preaching of the present day is not practical enough, or suffi- 
ciently distinguishing between true and false experience. I, 
therefore, speak more fully than most do of the moral charac- 
ter of the Deity ; of the excellency, glory, and loveliness of 
that character as described in the word of God. From this I 
deduce the reasonableness and excellency of the holy law of 
God ; which I endeavour fully to open in its extensive require- 
ments. Thence follows man's obligation to love God, both 
on account of his infinite loveliness, and of our natural relations 
and obhgations to him. Then I demonstrate the evil of sin, 
as apostacy from this lovely and glorious God and king, and 
transgressions of his perfect law. Thence I show the justice 
of God. in the infinite, and eternal punishment of sinners ; it 
being necessary that God should mark his hatred of this hate- 
ful thing, magnify his holy law, and show his justice, that he 
misfht appear glorious m the eyes of all for ever, but rebels. — 
Thus I suppose I dig deep to lay the foundation of the gospel 
of free grace : the necessity, nature, and glory, of the vicarious 
obedience and sufiferings of Immanuel : the sufficiency of his 
one sacrifice ; and his ability and willingness to save to the ut» 
termost all that come. Thence I show that all who maj; 
come, ought to come, and that all sin atrociously in not co- 
ming : that, however, it is in no natural man's heart to come ; 
because each man is proud, selfish, worldly, and carnal : there- 
fore all are without excuse. But a God of sovereign grace, 
having mercy on whom he will, according to his own purpose, 
makes some willing, by regeneration. This changes the pre- 
vailing bent of the heart, and henceforth the man is not only 
humbly wilhng to be justified by faith, and saved by grace, but 
hates and repents of sin, loves God's law, loves holiness, and 
leads a holy life, sincerely, progressively, though imperfectly, — 
receiving from Christ daily grace so to do ; and that all expe- 
rience which has not this effect is false. Every tree that bring- 
eth not forth good fruity <S^c, My paper forbids more. — This is 
the outline of my scheme. Pray animadvert upon it : for I 
would daily revise, correct, and improve it." 

Some copies of the Discourse on Repentance, then just pub- 



i3G correspokdejSce. [chap. vuj. 

lished, accompanied the next letter. The first sentence relates 
to that work. 

" May 25, 1785. — I hope it will meet your approbation, as 
it goes fully to establish that practical scheme you approve, 
and to oppose the loose notional religion whicli is so com- 
mon.... 

^^ I am much at a loss what to say concerning your situation 
with your congregation. I have seen and heard of so many 
such things that I am really grieved ; and. discouraged respect- 
ing the success of the gospel in the dissejiting congregations. 
No sooner does a minister begin in good earnest to address the 
consciences of his hearers, in an awakening, searching, and 
practical manner, and there is hope that religion will revive, 
converts be made, and Christians quickened to adorn their pro- 
fession ; than some antinomian hypocrite, or some injudicious 
dry professor, whose tongue or purse has given him considera- 
ble influence, begins to form a party against the minister ; to 
censure, browbeat, discourage, oppose, or expel him. Hence 
some are restrained ; and, by the fear of man, which bringeth a 
snare^ their ardour is damped ; they feel themselves in thral- 
dom ; and, if they are not consciously unfaithful, they ar.e forced 
to use such caution as cramps them in their ministrations, and 
takes off much of their pungency. Others are turned out and 
reduced to great difficulty : but this is by far the best, as it 
throws them immediately into the care of the Lord, for whose 
sake they sutfer, and who will certainly, in due time, provide for 
all who suffer for him. — Thus a stupid congregation choose a 
pastor of their own cast, when a pecuharly alarming, heart- 
searching one is requisite ; and so matters grow worse and 
worse. Or, if the pastor they choose turns out different than 
they expected, they either spoil or expel him : and thus, in 
many places, the form and notion are all tliat is retained of true 
religion — But the work is the Lord's, and from time to time he 
interposes, in some unexpected manner, and beyond hope brings 
about a revival. However, in this respect, we (of the church) 
have the best of it. My discontented ones, who have been 
numerous have now left me in peaceable possession : many more 
hearers fill up, and much more than fill up their places : and 
still the work of the Lord goes forward : nor hath their opposi- 
tion done me any real harm, but T hope much good. — I shall tell 
you a short story by way of improving this part of your letter. 
A dissenting minister, (at Cambridge, I think,) preaching ver}' 
practically, w as found fault with by his people, who gave him 
to understand that they must part with him, if he did not alter 
the strain of his preaching. The poor man, having a family, 



1779 1785.] CORRESPONDENCE. 137 

shrunk for a time ; but it preyed upon his health and spirits ; 
which his wife observing, plainly told him that he distrusted 
God out of fear of man, and was unfaithful ; and begged of him 
to preach according to his conscience, and leave the event to 
God. Accordingly he did so, and was expelled. But just at 
that time, a larger meeting, with a better salary, and a more 
lively people, being vacant, he was invited thither, and settled 
among thein ; lived in plenty ; and preached with acceptance 
and usefulness, till removed by death. This is a matter of fact. 
— Be but faithful then, my brother : never mince the matter : 
never fear man : plead God's cause with the people, and the 
people's cause with God ; and make it your great business to 
live what you preach : and he will surely extricate you out of 
all difficulties. When a marCs ways please the Lord, he maketh 
his enemies to be at peace with him. 

^' I am not of opmion that the system of passivity I mentioned 
is new to you. '['he word may be, but the thing itself you 
seem acquainted with, to your considerable unea^^iness. A few 
words will explain my meaning. An unconverted man says, 
' I can do nothing : if God would give me a heart, I should 
pray, repent, beheve ; but I cannot give myself a heart : if he 
will not, how can I help it ? I must wait his time : perhaps he 
some time may, and some time he certainly will, if i be one of 
the elect ; and, if not, I must perish, and all 1 can do will sig- 
nify nothing.' A professor says, '- T have declined and back- 
slidden : if God will be pleased to revive me, I shall be re- 
stored : I must wait : I hope I have known better times ; and 
He will not finally forsake his people.' In this style they ex- 
cuse their sloth and lukewarmness, quiet their consciences, stop 
their ears to exhortation, and, under pretence of passively 
waiting till God do all, and of giving him all the glory, fairly 
exonerate themselves of their guilt, and charge it all upon God ! 
— Indeed Adam's race seemed determined that the glory of the 
good and the blame of the bad should go together. The Armi- 
nian takes the blame of the bad to himself, and thinks it but 
reasonable that he should have the glory of the good too. The 
pseudo-Calvinist gives God all the glory of the good, but seems 
to think it reasonable that he should bear the blame of the bad 
also. But the true Christian says, ^ To me, even to me alone, 
belong shame and confusion of face for all my rebellion, im- 
penitence, unbelief, and sloth, all my days ; but to God alone 
belongs the glory of all the good wrought in me, or done 
by me !' " 

I present the reader with one more letter, strikingly display- 
ing the fervour of the writer's spirit in his Master's service, 

12* 



138 Correspondence. [chap, viu. 

and the stimulating nature of his intercourse with his fellow- 
servants. It is to his friend Mr. Mayor, dated May 14, 1785. 

" My dear friend, Nothing could sufficiently apologize for my 
omission of writing, except your own. Nay, indeed, though 
that does keep me in countenance, yet 1 do not think we are 
either of us excused. For a little time now and then spent in 
dictating a letter to each other, might be a means of quickening 
both of us ; as we have before now found conversation to be. 
Remember, Iron sharpens iron* Yea, remember what Horace 
says, 



■ Ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum 



Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi. 

Therefore, whether you can cut yourself or not, try to whet me, 
and make me cut ; and then I hope I shall try to return the 
obligation. I believe Satan prevails as much against the cause 
of Christ by persuading ministers to sit still, or merely to go on 
in the beaten round, without attempting any thing more, as in 
any other way. My conscience is never quiet and joyful, but 
when I am busy in some ministerial employment ; not merely 
in acquiring, but in communicating the knowledge of divine 
things by my tongue and pen : not only by meditation endea- 
vouring to affect my own heart, but, by some method or other, 
endeavouring to affect others, and stir them up to seek, trust, 
love, and serve the Lord. And, after a multitude of thoughts 
about pride, ambition, ^^c. influencing me to be active, (and 
they will insinuate themselves,) I am persuaded Satan would 
have me while away my life in inactivity, under pretences of 
modesty, diffidence, and humihty ; and he never is wanting to 
furnish me with excuses for delaying or shifting services. But 
I beg of God to rouse us from this lethargy. Paul says to Ti- 
mothy, Be instant in season^ out of season; preach the word; 
and seems to think there is more danger of sloth, than of too 
great activity in the preacher of the Gospel. May the love of 
Christ constrain us, and compassion for perishing souls prevail 
with us, to leave no means untried to promote faith and holi- 
ness, and to bear testimony against irreligion and false religion : 
to awaken the careless, to undeceive the deluded, to allure 
souls to Christ, to encourage the humble, and stir up the be- 
liever to glorify God. — Write soon a letter longer than the note 
you sent from Birmingham, and let me know how things go on 
in your soul, and in your congregation. Stir up^ my brother, 
the gift of God that is in you. Hoc age. Now is the time 
to labour, and suffer hardship and reproach. It is both seed 
time and harvest, and it is shameful to sleep in either. Cast 



1785— 8. j FROM QUITTING OLNEY, &C. 13^ 

your bread upon the waters. Sow in the motming^ and in the 
evenings and water it with many prayers ; and, if you see it 
not before, you will see the fruit of it at the last day. — -Some 
little good is going on here, and we are waiting and praying for 
more : lend us your assistance in this particular 

'^ I should have been glad to be at Birmingham, but could 
not : — especially to have met' you there. . . . 

" Desiring to remember you in my prayers, and requesting 
your prayers, I remain your very affectionate friend and bro- 
ther, Thomas Scott." 



CHAPTER IX. 

from the close of his ministry at olney to the commeimce- 
ment of his commentary on the bible. 

•Such was the nature of my father's situation, and such the 
course he was pursuing, when events occurred, by which he 
was very unexpectedly called to occupy higher ground, and to 
enter upon a new field of service and of trial. But he himself 
shall furnish both the introduction to this change, and the his- 
tory of what took place. Thus he speaks in his narrative : 

" My outward circumstances were now in some measure im- 
proved at Olney : and my ministry though unpopular, was in 
many instances evidently blessed ; yet I never could make up 
my mind to continue there. The vicar, the Rev. Moses Browne, 
was very old, and there was no doubt, that, in the event of his 
death, I should be presented to the living, if I remained on the 
curacy. But this very circumstance tended to render me dis- 
satisfied. I cannot, and need not, convey to others a particu- 
lar account of all things which rendered the thoughts of spend- 
ing my days at Olney painful to me ; and the changes of situa- 
tion, from curate to vicar, would, with respect to some of them, 
have rather aggravated than relieved my difficulties. In part, 
my views might be erroneous ; but, in the far greater part, I 
should feel the same objection still, if Olney were what it was 
then : which in some respects it certainly is not. 

" I had not, however, the most distant prospect of any other 
situation ; and my unpopularity at Olney was itself a powerful 
bar to my obtaining any. This may be judged of by the fol- 
lowing incident. I went to London, as I was accustomed to 
do once a year, and I was asked to preach by a friend whom I 
had heard with profit, as early as I so heard any one, and for whom 
I had repeatedly preached before. But, just as I was going into 
the pulpit, he said to me, ' Do not scold my people, as I have 



140 , FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX. 

heard you do the people at Olney ?' This did not seem well 
timed. He, however, unreservedly testified his approbation of 
the sermon, which I was, notwithstanding, enabled to preach. 
But it shows the representations which were spread of my mi- 
nistry, and how unfavourable they would be to my desire of a 
change of a situation. 

" Mr. Cowper, in letters to Mr. Newton, which have since 
been published by Mr. Hayley, and which pretty generally 
found their way into the Reviews, brought the same charge 
against me, in strong terms ; which, coming from so eminent 
and popular a character, must have great weight. But Mr. C, 
it should be known, never heard me preach : neither did Mrs. 
Unwin ; nor their more respectable friends. Mr. C.'s informa- 
tion concerning my preaching was derived from the very per- 
sons, whose doctrinal and practical antinomianism I steadily 
confronted. — Notwithstanding these harsh censures, however, 
God blessed my ministry at Olney to the conversion of many ; 
and to effectually repressing the antinomian spirit which had 
gone forth in the place : and thus it was made subservient to 
the usefulness of my successors, who were not bowed down 
with the same load of unpopularity that 1 was." 

In explanation of what is here mentioned concerning Mr. 
Cowper's never hearing my father preach, it should be remem- 
bered, that one feature of the unhappy illusion, under which 
that admired character laboured, was a persuasion that it was 
his duty to abstain from religious worship. I believe 1 am cor- 
rect in stating the fact thus generally : certainly, at least, he 
abstained i'rompublic worship as from a blessing prohibited to him : 
and I think I have a distinct recollection, that, though he might 
suffer prayer to be offered in the room, with him, he declined 
joining it. — Mrs. Unwin never quitted the object of her assi- 
duous care. 

On the success of his labours, as here represented, my father 
thus speaks in a letter written in the year 1793. " The effect 
of my ministry in the vicinity of Olney now appears much 
more evidently than when I left that situation : and this en- 
courages me amidst the manifold discouragements of my pre- 
sent station." — I believe there are comparatively few ministers, 
really having their hearts in their work, who do not find their 
situations, on one ground or another, discouraging. It is natu- 
ral that it should be so : for in this evil world, the Christian mi- 
nister's employment is all strugghng against the current. I glad- 
ly, therefore, present all these passages, which may tend to 
strengthen the hands of my brethren, and may animate us still 
to struggle on : and I consider them all as laying a ground for 
what I regard as one grand lesson afforded by my father's his- 



1785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARr. 141 

tory, namely, that a very discouraging course^ properly sustain- 
ed^ may eventually prove useful beyond all expectation, — But we 
continue the narrative. 

" While I was thus, in some respects, dissatisfied with my 
only prospect as to future life, on my return home from one of 
my irregular excursions, in September, 1786, I found a letter 
from the Secretary of the Lock Hospital, written in the name 
of several governors, saying, that it had been resolved to ap- 
point a person to the office of morning preacher in the chapel, 
and visiting chaplain to the patients ; that, from what they had 
heard concerning me, they were of opinion that I should be a 
very suitable person for the situation ; and that it was their re- 
quest that I would come to London, and give them the oppor- 
tunity of hearing me.- — Nothing could be more contrary to my 
own views of what my peculiar talent, whatever it was, quali- 
fied me for, than this proposal — except as the poor patients 
were concerned. I therefore wrote a very plain answer, sta- 
ting my views of the Gospel, and my determination to speak my 
mind in the plainest language, wherever I might be called to 
preach ; and my consciousness of being totally destitute of those 
attractions of manner and elocution, which such a situation de- 
manded. My friends, who afterward saw the letter, approved 
it much, except the last clause, in which I consented to come 
and preach, if the governors still desired it. — Accordingly I did 
go, and preached two sermons, in as plain and faithful a manner 
as I possibly could ; without attempting any thing different 
from my homely style in other places. I really thought that 
this specimen would be sufficient ; and I hoped good might be 
done to some individuals, by such addresses dehvered in that 
place. 

'^ When about to return home, (after having my expenses 
much more than defrayed by individuals, without any charge 
on the funds of the charity,) I was asked, whether I would pro- 
pose myself as a candidate at the ensuing election ? I answer- 
ed in the negative, peremptorily. ^ But will you accept of the 
situation,' it was then said, '• should you be chosen, without pro- 
posing yourself?' I replied, 'I cannot tell ; but certainly not, 
unless that choice should be almost unanimous. Having preach- 
ed in the chapel, I shall now return home ; and, if I hear no 
more from you, you will hear no more from me.' — In a few 
weeks the election took place : no other person was proposed : 
and I was appointed, with only three opposing voices. This 
was unexpected : and I saw more and more reason, on every 
consideration and inquiry, to conclude that, if I acceded to this 
appointment, I should be plunged into difficulties and trials of 
a most dismaying nature. Yet I did not dare to give a direct 



142 FROM aUlTTING OLNEf TO [CHAP. I3C. 

refusal, without taking farther advice upon the subject. It 
might be an opening to more enlarged usefulness : and my own 
personal feelings must not be allowed much weight in such a 
case — I am conscious that I wished to know and do my duty : 
and 1 went again to London, on purpose to consult such mini- 
sters as I thought most competent to advise me. But most of 
those whom I consulted, assuming, groundlessly^ that I was 
bent on coming, did not think it worth while to waste counsel 
(as they supposed.) on one who would not take it. Their ob- 
jections were suppressed till the die was cast ; and then I heard 
them in abundance. Mr. Robinson of Leicester, indeed, to 
whom I wrote, gave me his sentiments faithfully and unreser- 
vedly ; stating every objection strongly, yet not absolutely de- 
ciding that they ought to prevail. 

'•• Here I must observe, that it is a very great fault, and in- 
stance of unfaithfulness, especially in senior ministers, when 
from a supposition that a person who consults them has already 
made up his mind, they decline giving him their plain and honest 
opinion. This leads inexperienced persons to conclude that, 
as little or no objection is made, the proposed measure is ap- 
proved by those who are consulted, and has their sanction. 
Yet, as, in many instances, respectable men find that their ad- 
vice is not followed, and in few js received with implicit sub« 
mission ; they often consider themselves justified in withhold- 
ing counsel from those who ask it. Now, not as one requiring 
advice, but as one that has been long in the habit of giving it, 
I must say, that I think impHcit compliance with advice given 
ought not to be expected. If those who seek counsel are 
willing to give it attentive consideration, accompanied with pray- 
er for divine direction, it is all that we are entitled to look for : 
and, even if this is not done, yet, in giving the best advice in 
our power, we deliver our own souls : whereas, by withholding it, 
we render ourselves partakers of other men's sins ; and much 
of the blame of that conduct, which perhaps we severely cen- 
sure, really belongs to us. 

" For myself I am conscious, that I was fully disposed to 
give to the most faithful advice, about, or against, acceding to 
the proposal of the governors of the Lock, an attentive hear- 
ing, and careful consideration ; and the Lord knoweth, that 
every step in the business was taken, on my part, with many 
earnest and anxious prayers for direction : but not finding the 
objections urged which I had expected, I began to consider the 
offer made me as a call to a self-denying duty ; and was really 
afraid that 1 should commit a great sin if 1 pertinaciously refu- 
sed it. Had I heard all those things previously to my consent, 
which I heard subsequently, I certainly should never have con 



1 785 — 8.] coMME^'OING his commentary. 143 

sented at all. Thus I should have escaped much distress ; but, 
taking the whole together, I now think I should have been far 
less useful." 

This subject of giving advice, and of what may reasonably 
be expected from those who ask it, was one on which my father 
frequently spoke ; and from his letters it appears that it was 
one on which he early formed very just opinions. Thus, in 
1773, he writes to one of his sisters : '^ I shall, I hope, ever be 
obliged to my friends for advice, but I do not promise always 
to obey it. I will promise to add the reasons they offer to my 
own, to give them a vote in the consultation, and at last to let 
the majority carry the day, as far as I am able to discern it. 
That is, so long as advice serves to direct my own judgment, 
I shall be glad of it : but will not supersede it." Again : 
'' One friend gives me this advice, another that : one advises 
me to act in this manner, another directly contrary : and what 
am I to do ? The answer is plain : has not God given me rea- 
son ? and for what purpose, but to direct my conduct ? But 
to what then tends advice ? To inform that reason : and, if 
two persons give me different counsel, I am not at liberty to 
act (implicitly) according to either one or the other ; but to weigh 
the arguments on which they are both founded, and to act ac- 
cordingly." — There is not here that humble appeal to superior 
direction, which he would never, at a later period, have omit- 
ted to mention, but in other respects the principle is the same as 
he ever afterward maintained. — And, if this be a just rule fop 
the conduct of the person asking counsel, it forms also the just 
measure for the expectations of the persons giving it. In this 
way, likewise he early applied it. In 1 777, he says to the same 
relative : " You ask my pardon for not taking my advice. 
This, I assure you, was needless : for I gave you ray advice 
for your sake, not my own, and should be equally glad to hear 
that you succeeded well in rejecting it, as in following it." 
And again in 1789: " I will by no means agree that yoil 
should implicitly follow any advice, which I nov/, or at any other 
time, may give. I would propose hints and assign reasons, 
and then leave you to think of them, and pray over them : 
which is the best w^ay of inquiring of the Lord, to discover his 
will." 

If to all this we add the observation of the wise and holy 
Halyburton, that " the promise of God, to direct our steps^ 
does not extend always to teaching others what is our duty," 
it may reconcile us to persevere in giving the best advice we can 
to those who ask it, without requiring or expecting to see it im- 
plicitly followed ; which is what my father wished to inculcate. 

He next observes in his narrative : '' A circumstance which 



144 FROM aUITTITsG OLNEY TO [cHAP. IX» 

had considerable weight in deciding my mind was the hope of 
getting one who, I trusted, would prove an able and useful la- 
bourer ordained to succeed me at Olney." This was the Rev. 
James Bean who though the prospect of his immediately suc- 
ceeding to Olney was not realized, *•' was at length ordained, went 
thither and became vicar of the place ; was useful there, and very 
acceptable to my friends and favourers ; but ere long resigned 
the living, by which means my sanguine expectations were 
painfully disappointed. — Still, however, I did not give my an- 
swer to the governors of the Lock till the last day, and almost 
the last hour, allowed me for deUberation. 

" Whatever others judged, my own people, who were most 
attached to me, and most grieved to part with me, were con- 
vinced that I was called by providence to remove, and that I did 
my duty in complying with it. I am not, however, myself to 
this day satisfied on the subject. I cannot doubt that my remo- 
val has, especially by means of my writings, (as far as they have 
been, or are likely to be, useful,) been overruled for good ; but, 
when I consider what a situation I inadvertently rushed into, 
I fear I did not act properly, and I willingly accept all my un- 
vspeakable mortifications and vexations as a merciful correc- 
tion of my conduct ; which, though not, in one sense, incon- 
siderate, yet showed strange inattention to the state of parties, 
and other circumstances, at the Lock ; which, had I duly ad- 
verted to them, would have made me think it madness to en- 
gage in such a service." 

It may well be allowed that several circumstances at that , 
time attending the situation of the Lock, could they, previously 
to experience, have been fully realized, might not only, with 
good reason, have produced great hesitation as to the accept- 
ance of it, but even hav^e appalled a mind firm and courageous 
as my father's was. To be subject to the control of a board of 
governors, many of them looking only to the pecuniary inte- 
rests of the charity ; and what must, if possible, be still more 
adverse to a minister's repose, many of them thinking them- 
selves both qualified and entitled to dictate as to his doctrine : 
this must, of itself, be deemed sufficiently objectionable. More- 
over, the board was then split into parties ; such as frequently 
arise when a concern, once prosperous, becomes mvolved in 
difilculties. Still farther, from the difi^erent character and sen- 
timents of the two ministers, and the manner of my father's in- 
troduction, the chapel, and even the pulpit, was likely to be the 
scene of no less division than the board-room. The Lock also 
might at that period, be considered as almost the head-quarters 
of that loose and notional religion, on which my father had 
commenced his attack in the country. Laying all these things 



1785 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 145 

together, and taking into account his obscurity, and the humble 
rustic society in which, almost exclusively, he had hitherto mo- 
ved, we shall cease to wonder at his last recited remark. Still, 
however, contemplating the consequences of his removal to the 
Lock, only as far as we can now trace them ; — that, without 
this step, v/e should never, humanly speaking, have had his 
Commentary on the Scriptures, (to name no others of his wri- 
tings ;) and that the great and effective stand, which he was 
enabled to make in London, against a very meagre, defective, 
and even corrupt representation of Christianity, would never 
have been made : when all this is considered, I trust we may 
say, that thousands have reason to pronounce it a happy inad- 
vertence, by which he overlooked difficulties that might have 
led him to decline the call made upon him ; and that impartial 
bystanders will be disposed to consider " the unspeakable mor- 
tifications and vexations" which followed, as the necessary trials 
of his faith, the preparatives for the peculiar services he was to 
render, and the requisite counterpoise to prevent his being " ex- 
alted above measure," by the flattering celebrity and the great 
usefulness he was ultimately to attain, rather than, as he him- 
self was ready to think them, the corrections of a great impro- 
priety of which he had been guilty. 

His narrative proceeds : '^ My salary at the Lock was no 
more than 80Z. a year, nearly 40Z. of which was necessary for 
rent and taxes. I had, however, golden promises ; but I never 
greatly relied upon them ; and I became more and more con- 
vinced, even before I left Olney, that they would not, in any 
measure, be realized. I discovered that party was much con- 
cerned in the whole business ; and I said to my family, when 
coming to town, ' Observe, many of those who now appear to 
be my friends will forsake me ; but God will raise me up other 
friends.'* 

* It is amusing to me to recollect, and it may not be altogether impertinent 
to mention, that the text, Prov. xxvii. 14, has been for thirty- six years distinct- 
ly impressed upon my mind, owing to my having, so long since, heard my fa- 
ther apply it to the then loud and ardent friendship of one of the governors of 
the Lock. The words are : " He that blesseth his friend with a loud voice. 
rising early in the morning, it shall be counted a curse to him." The anticipa- 
tion was realized : and the friendship of this gentleman, (who died many years 
ago,) soon cooled into indifference. 

One honourable exception from the number of those persons who, having 
brought my father to the Lock, afterward deserted or neglected him, is entitled 
to be mentioned. I refer to John Pearson, Esq. of Golden-square, for many 
years surgeon to the hospital. My father always attributed more to the argu- 
ments of that gentleman, in deciding his acceptance of the situation at the 
Lock, than to those of any other person : and in Mr. P. he found a constant 
friend to the end of his life ; to ^vhom he was indebted for many personal fa- 
vours, besides the most skilful professional assistance, promptly and gra- 

13 



14G FROM aUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX. 

" I had indeed imagined that I should, without much diffi- 
culty, procure a lectureship on the Sunday afternoon or even- 
ing, and perhaps one on the weekday ; and I stood ready for 
any kind or degree of labour to which I might be called. But, 
whilst almost all my brethren readily obtained such appointments, 
I could never, during the seventeen years of my residence in 
town, procure any lectureship, except that of St. Mildred's, 
Bread-street, which, in a manner, came to me, because no other 
person thought it worth applying for. It produced me, on an 
average, about SOI. a year. Some presents, however, which 
I received, added considerably to its value during the last two 
or three years that I held it. For some years also, 1 preached 
at St. Margaret's, Lothbury, every alternate Sunday morning, 
at six o'clock, to a small company of people, and administered 
the sacrament. The stipend, however, for this service, was 
only 7^. 6d. a time ; though I walked about seven miles in going 
and returning." 

My father was appointed to the Sunday afternoon lectureship 
in Bread-street, February 16, 1790, and retained it till he was 
chosen sole chaplain to the Lock, in March, 1802. His con- 
gregation seldom much exceeded a hundred in number ; but 
they were attentive hearers, and he had reason to beheve that 
his preaching there was useful to many persons, several of whom 
have since become instruments of good to others. One it may 
be allowable to specify, whose extensive and invaluable services 
may God long continue and abundantly bless to his church ! 
" I myself," observes the Rev. Daniel Wilson, in a note annex- 
ed to his funeral sermon for my father, '■'• was, five or six and 
twenty years since, one of his very small congregation at his 
lecture in the city ; and I derived, as I trust, from the sound 
and practical instruction which I then received, the greatest 
and most permanent benefit, at the very time when a good di- 
rection and bias were of the utmost importance — the first set- 
ting out as a theological student." 

To the morning lecture at Lothbury, if I mistake not, he suc- 
ceeded when Mr. Cecil became unable any longer to continue 
it. Though a source of no emolument, this too was a pleasant 
service to him. Few^ persons w^ould attend at that early hour, 
who did not bear a real love to the ordinances of God's house ^ 
and among them were many pious servants and others, who 
found obstructions to attending public worship at other parts of 
the day. 

In adverting to these lectureships, at this period of his narra- 

tuitously rendered to him and his family, on the numerous occasions which 
required it. 



1783 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 147 

tive, my father has somewhat anticipated : it may be proper 
that I should so far follow him, as, in this connexion, to remark 
the extent of his Sunday labours at that time. And this I shall 
do in the words of a lady of highly respectable station and con- 
nexions in life, who repeatedly passed some little time under 
his roof, and was particularly struck with this and other cir- 
cumstances of his habits and character. She writes thus : 

" I must now, my dear sir, assure you, that, during rny pretty 
long wanderings in the world, even in the best part of it, I can 
truly affirm, that the various seasons I passed under the roof of 
your excellent parents are marked with a peculiar force on rny 
memory, as presenting what came nearer to the perfection of a 
Christian's pilofrimage than I have often met with elsewhere. 
And this remembrance leads me to express the hope, that you 
will not fail to give the precise and accurate report of your 
great father's life to the careless and idle world. My oppor- 
tunities have made me acquainted with such diversities of 
habits, that I believe the information you can furnish of his 
extraordinary labours will surprise, as well as edify many a 
weak brother. I have been called upon solemnly to attest the 
account of his common Sunday work, mental and bodily, as al- 
most beyond belief." 

This address led to the request, that the writer would herself 
put down what had struck her, as an occasional visitant, more 
than it might have done those, who, from being accustomed to 
it, would be apt to pass it over as a matter of course. The re- 
ply I give with such very slight corrections as were required. 

^^ The account I have been accustomed to relate of Mr. 
Scott's Sunday labours, is as follows, and my memory does not 
tax me wnth inaccuracy. At four o'clock in the morning of 
every alternate Sunday, winter as well as summer, the watch- 
man gave one heavy knock at the door, and Mr. S. and an old 
maid-servant arose, — for he could not go out without his break- 
fast. He then set forth to meet a congregation at a church in 
Lothbury, about three miles and a half off; — 1 rather think the 
only church in London attended so early as six o'clock in the 
morning. I think he had from two to three hundred auditors, 
and administered the sacrament each time. He used to observe 
that, if at any time, in his early walk through the streets in the 
depth of winter, he was tempted to complain, the view of 
the newsmen equally alert, and for a very different object, 
changed his repinings into thanksgivings. — From the city he 
returned home, and about ten o'clock assembled his family to 
prayers : immediately after which, he proceeded to the chapel, 
where he performed the whole service, with the administration 
of the sacrament on the alternate Sundays, when he did not go 



148 FROM atlTTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX* 

to Lothbury. His sermons, you know, were most ingeniously 
brought into an exact hour : just about the same time, as I 
have heard him say, being spent in composing them. I well 
remember accompanying him to the afternoon church in Bread- 
street, (nearly as far as Lothbury,) after his taking his dinner 
without sitting down. On this occasion I hired a hackney- 
coach : but he desired me not to speak, as he took that time to 
prepare his sermon. I have calculated that he could not go much 
less than fourteen miles in the day, frequently the whole of it on 
foot, besides the three services, and at times a fourth sermon at 
Longacre Chapel, or elsewhere, on his way home in the evening : 
and then he concluded the whole with family prayer, and that 
not a very short one.— Considering his bilious and asthmatic 
habit, this was immense labour ! And all this I knew him do 
very soon after, if not the very next Sunday after, he had bro- 
ken a rib by falling down the cabin-stairs of a Margate packet : 
and it seemed to me as if he passed few weeks without taking an 
emetic ! But his heart was in his work : and I never saw a more 
devoted Christian. Indeed, he appeared to me to have hardly 
a word or a thought out of the precise line of his duty ; which 
made him somewhat formidable to weaker and more sinful be- 
ings. — His trials, 1 should think, (as you would have me honest 
with you,) were those of temper. Never, ! often remarked, 
was there a petition in his family prayers, for any thing but the 
pardon of sin, and the suppressing of corruption. — His hfe, and 
labours, and devotedness, kept him from much knowledge of 
the world ; but the strength of his judgment gave him a rapid 
insight into passing affairs : and, upon the whole, I should be 
inclined to say, he was one of the wisest men I ever knew. — 
You know more than I can do of the nature and habits of his 
daily life. T can only say that, when fatigued with writing, he 
would come up stairs, where the Bible was generally open, and 
his relaxation seemed to be, talking over some text with those 
whom he found there : and I can truly declare, that I never 
lived in a happier or more united family." 

It is implied in the above account, that my father's sermons 
were usually composed the same day they were delivered. This 
was literally the case. For more than five and thirty years, he 
never put pen to paper in preparing for the pulpit, except in 
the case of three or four sermons, preached on particular oc- 
casions, and expressly intended for publication : yet no one who 
heard him would complain of crudeness or want of thought in 
his discourses : they were rather faulty in being overcharged 
with matter, and too argumentative for the generaUty of hear- 
ers. — Indeed, an eminent chancery lawyer used to say, that he 
heard him for professional improvement, as well as for religious 



1785 8. J CO]«:SIENCING HIS C0M3rENTARY. 14^ 

edification ; for that he possessed the close argumentative elo- 
quence peculiarly requisite at that bar, and which was found to 
be so rare an endowment. 

His statea)ent concerning his pecuniary resources in London, 
(from which we digressed,) he thus concludes : '-'- The Lord, 
however, provided for me very comfortably ; though, even 
on the retrospect, I can hardly explain or conceive how it was 
done. A subscription was annually raised for me at the Lock, 
as had been promised ; but it fell considerably short of what 
I had been taught to expect, and a great proportion of it came 
from persons who had no concern in bringing me thither. I 
might mention some respectable names of persons, wholly un- 
known to me w^hen I came to town, who became my liberal 
friends ; and of some wiio, though they always disapproved 
my ministry, and avowed their disapprobation, yet contributed 
to my support." 

I confess it is with some reluctance that I admit these details 
of the straitened and dependent provision made for my father, 
in each successive place to which he removed : not that ! feel 
as if any personal degradation attended the circumstance, but 
lest it should seem to be obtruding: upon notice private affairs, 
which have now passed away. Still I conceive there may be 
sufficient reasons for not withholding them. They present one 
part of those '-'• struggles through life" which make up his his- 
tory. To some they may surely afford occasion of gratitude : 
they are, at least comparatively rich Others may derive en- 
couragement from knowing that my father always lived comfort- 
ably, though hterally he did little more than receive '•'• day by 
day his daily bread." All may justly be stimulated, while they 
see that such narrow circumstances w^ere never any check to 
his unwearied and disinterested labours to be useful. And, 
finally, I must insist upon it, that such circumstances, borne as 
he bore them, ennobled his character. Dr. Franklin has re- 
marked, that it is, "• hard to make an empty bag stand upright :'* 
but, however empty, my father always stood upright— not with 
the uprightness of integrity only, but of independence : I do 
not mean the pride which refuses to receive or to acknowledge 
an obhgation, but that firm rectitude which will not sacrifice 
judgment and principle to any consideration whatever. — This 
has in some degree appeared already, and it will appear still 
farther in what is to follow. — We turn to his labours at the 
Lock. 

" There was a weekly lecture at the Lock chapel, on the 
Wednesday evening, which the evening preacher and I were to 
take alternately. All circumstances considered, I did not ex- 
pect much usefulness from this service. I therefore entreated 

13* 



150 FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAJP. IX. 

the acting governors to allow me, in addition to it, to preach 
a lecture on the Friday evenings ; the service to be altogether 
my own. This, after some hesitation, was conceded. The 
congregation, which might be expected to attend, I was aware, 
was decidedly Calvinistic : but I was fully determined to bring 
forward, at this lecture, (which, indeed, I had desired almost 
exclusively for the purpose,) every thing in the most particular 
manner, relative to the Christian temper and conduct. With 
this view I formed, as I foolishly thought, a very sagacious plan, 
I gave notice that I would lecture, in an expository manner, 
on the Epistle to the Ephesians, in order. At first I was very 
well attended, my congregation generally consisting of more 
than three hundred persons. This continued while I was go- 
ing through the more doctrinal part of the Epistle ; though I 
apphed the doctrine very plainly to practical purposes, and 
often intimated my hope, that I should be favoured with equal 
attention* when I came to speak more particularly on Christian 
tempers and the relative duties. — But the Lord took the wise 
in his own craftiness. When I arrived at the latter part of 
the fourth chapter, the alarm was spread, though I stamped 
every exhortation strongly with an evangelical seal. But at 
length when I preached from the fifth chapter, on the words, 
See that ye walk circumspectly., 4*^., the charge was every 
where circulated, that I had changed my principles, and was 
become an Arminian : and, at once, I irrecoverably lost much 
above half my audience. — The Sunday morning congregation 
also greatly decreased : dissatisfaction was manifested in the 
looks and language of all the acting governors, even such as 
had been most friendly : and 1 seemed to have no alternative, 
but that of either receding voluntarily from my situation, or 
being disgracefully dismissed. 

" I had, however, no place to which to retire ; every door 
seemed to be shut against me. On this emergency, amidst 
very many interruptions, and under inexpressible discourage- 
ment, I wrote in the course of a week, and preached on the 
Sunday morning following, (November 26, 1786,) my sermon 
on Election and Final Perseverance. By the next week it 
was printed and ready for sale : and a thousand copies were 
sold in about three days. A second edition was printed ; but 
the public were saturated, and a ^o\y copies only were disposed of. 

'^ While I was preparing this sermon, I dined with rather a 
large party, many of the company governors of the Lock, and 
zealous, in their w^ay, for Calvinism. In the evening it was 
proposed according to custom, to discuss some religious sub- 
ject : and, being really desirous of information, I proposed a 
question concerning the precise boundaries between Calvinism 



1785 — 8. J COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. Ibl 

and Arminianism, respecting which so much prejudice against 
my ministry had been excited. But in conference they added 
nothing unto me: and, two dissenters excepted, no one offered 
any thing sufficient to show that he understood the subject. So 
that, when I concluded with my own remarks, it was allowed 
that I was more decidedly Calvinistic than the rest of the com- 
pany ! — This was suited in one way to gratify me : but it was 
still more calculated to convince me, that I was placed in a most 
unpromising situation." 

I well remember the utter astonishment which my father ex- 
pressed on returning from the party here alluded to. He had 
not conceived it possible^ that men, known in the religious 
world, could have allowed themselves boldly to take a side, and 
to talk loudly in favour of a system, of which they scarcely 
knew the outlines, and the grounds of which they were not able 
to explain, still less to defend. — It is much to be hoped, that so 
instructive a record, as we are now considering, will not have 
been written in vain. That some, at least, will allow them- 
selves to be put on their guard against being scared by the ter- 
ror of a mere name ; and will be induced, after the honoura- 
ble example of the Bereans, to '^ search the Scriptures" con- 
cerning what they hear, and to ask, not by what distinctive ap- 
pellation it may be described, but whether it is '•'• according to 
the oracles of God" or not. — It is to be hoped, also, that some 
persons, immersed, perhaps, in secular business, from Monday 
morning till Saturday night, may be induced to doubt whether 
they are quite so well qualified to decide upon difficult theolo- 
gical questions, as they may have taken it for granted that they 
were. 

I fear it is but too obvious, with respect to many of the num- 
bers who w^ere '•^ irrecoverably" driven from the Lock, when 
my father proceeded to unfold and apply the parts of St. Paul's 
writings which treat of '^ Christian tempers and relative duties," 
that their real objection was not to Arminianism, (of which 
they very probably scarcely knew the meaning,) but to half.^ or 
more than half the word of God.. They had been accustomed 
to overlook it themselves, and could not bear to have it pressed 
upon their notice by another. 

My father continues : " I had at this time many instructors 
as to my style of preaching ; and some at the Lock board as- 
sumed rather a high tone of authority : while others were dis- 
posed to counsel me as the messengers of Ahab did Micaiah."^' 
But I disposed of the dictating instruction very shortly. ' Gen- 
tlemen,' I said, ' you possess authority sufficient to change me 

* 1 Kings xxii. 13, 14. 



152 FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX. 

for another preacher, whenever you please ; but you have no 
power to change me into another preacher. If you do not 
convince my understanding that I am in an error, you can 
never induce me to alter my method of preaching.' 

^'' The vexations, however, which I continually experienced, 
often overcame for a time my patience and fortitude. On one 
occasion they led me to say to my wife, ' Whatever be the con- 
sequence., I will quit this situation ; for I shall never have any 
peace in it.' She promptly answered : ^ Take heed what you 
do : if you leave your station in this spirit, you will perhaps 
soon be w'\\h Jonah in the whale's belly.' The check was 
seasonable, and procured my acquiescence. 

^' Various plans were devised to counteract the declension of 
the congregation, consequent on my increasing unpopularity. 
Among others, a preacher of some name offered, when in town, 
to take the Sunday morning sermon gratuitously : and this was 
proposed to me with assurances that my income should suffer no 
diminution. 1 answered, •• Gentlemen, I came hither for the 
work, and not for the wages ; and if you take that from me, I 
will certainly go and seek employment elsewhere.' This dis- 
concerted the plan ; which was, however, abandoned chiefly 
through the interposition of the Earl of Dartmouth, (a constant 
attendant on the morning service at the Lock,) who remarked, 
^ That he thought it would be better for the gentleman in ques- 
tion to reside on his hving, and attend to his own flock, than to 
intermeddle with other men's labours : and that, if the present 
preachers in the chapel were incompetent, it might be proper 
to dismiss them, but not in so disgraceful a manner to supersede 
either the one or the other of them.' 

" Every thing, however, conduced to render me more and 
more unpopular, not only at the Lock, but in every part of 
London ; and numbers, who never heard me preach, were ful- 
ly possessed with the idea, that there was something very 
wrong both in my preaching and in my spirit. Much defect, 
especially as to manner, I am fully conscious of: but I am 
equally conscious^ that I did not give way to anger in my mi- 
nistry : but that my most distinguishing reprehensions of those, 
who perverted the doctrines of the gospel to antinomian pur- 
poses, and my most awful warnings, were the language of com- 
passionate love, and were accompanied by many tears and 
prayers. My most respectable and constant bearers, who of- 
ten expressed dissatisfaction with my manner, and with my 
dwelling disproportionately on certain points in debate ; or 
being too severely pointed in exposing the religious deficiences 
of persons of fair moral character ; never imputed to me a 
harsh and angry spirit in the pulpit : the charge oi scolding was 



1785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 153 

brought against me, precisely as had been the case at Olney, 
either by those who seldom or never heard me, or by those very 
practical antinomians, whose awful and pernicious delusion 1 
endeavoured to expose. 

" During this time, almost my whole comfort, as a minister, 
arose from my labours in the hospital, which with all the dis- 
gusting circumstances of the service, were far more pleasing 
and encouraging to me, than preaching in the chapel. I con- 
stantly attended twice in the week ; each time preaching first, 
in the women's wards, and then in the men's. I took the plain- 
est portions of Scripture, and spoke in a strain of close address 
to the conscience, and altogether in a manner, which I could 
never equal in any other place ; and so as alvvays to fix the at- 
tention, and often greatly to affect the hearts, of my poor pro- 
fligate auditors. I concluded each address with an appropri- 
ate prayer. I was restricted by no rules : indeed I could not 
have acted to my own satisfaction, had any been prescribed : 
but I did the very best that I could. 

" I soon perceived the plan, and indeed the institution itself, 
to be utterly incomplete, as far as the female patients were con- 
cerned : as they had, in general, on leaving the hospital, no 
other alternative open before them but returning to their for- 
mer course of life, (which, in the great majority of instances, 
was that of prostitution ;) or encountering hardships which it 
could not be supposed they would have resolution to endure. 
Direct starving, indeed, cannot in this country be a frequent 
danger : but to prefer the frowns and reproaches of the parish 
officer, and the restraints and grievances of a workhouse, under 
the most unfavourable circumstances possible, to the ruinous 
indeed, but for the moment jovial and self-indulgent life to 
which she has been accustomed, is more than can reasonably 
be expected of a female patient just discharged from the Lock 
Hospital !* — It could not, then, be hoped that these women, so 
situate, would do otherwise than close their ears against all in- 
struction, and every admonition which called them to so severe 
a trial, 

'^ Amidst all my difficulties, therefore, I formed the plan of 
an asylum, into which such of these unhappy objects, as de- 
sired it, might be admitted on their leaving the hospital. I wrote 
a pamphlet on the subject, and read it in manuscript to Lord 
Dartmouth, Sir Charles Middleton, (since Lord Barham,) and 
some others. Being encouraged by them, I printed it, propo- 

* It would be to require of them " the faith and constancy of a mar- 
tyr, (in steadily preferring the greatest hardships to a ready relief by 
sin,) in tlie very first onset of a reformation." My father's Pamphlet, 
1787. 



154 FROM aXJITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX* 

sing at the same time, a meeting to be held for the purpose of 
taking the subject into consideration : and putting it under 
cover as a letter, I left it myself at the doors of most of the no- 
bihty and principal gentry in town. Being so left, it was gene- 
rally read ; and the result is known. A meeting was held, 
(April 17, 1787,) the Duke of Manchester taking the chair; 
and with much difficulty, an asylum was formed, on a very 
small scale. It often appeared to me that it must be given up, 
for want of money to defray the expenses. For a long time 
the only return I met with for my assiduity, was censure, even 
from quarters from which f least expected it : but I trust seve- 
ral immortal souls have been, and will be saved by means of 
the institution. — i cannot doubt that the very opposition at first 
made to it by sofne friends of the Magdalen, who afterw^ard 
favoured it, occasioned some important improvement in the 
management of that charity : and institutions on the same gene- 
ral principle have since been formed at Dublin, Bristol, Hull, 
and some other places, (not to mention the London Peniten- 
tiary,) in respect to which, the letters I received fully showed, 
that my little attempt had in some measure suggested the idea 
to those who founded them." 

The reflecting reader will not fail to be struck with the wont- 
ed zeal and energy of my father's mind, as displayed on this 
occasion, in forming and carrying, into effect such a design, 
while he was yet an obscure stranger in London, and in other 
respects very disadvantageously situate. — During the whole 
term of his continuance in town, he acted as chaplain to the 
new institution, and took the principal share in the manage- 
ment of its concerns. For several years he attended daily 
(without any remuneration,) to conduct family worship, and 
give religious instruction in the house ; and he constantly had 
a servant in his family taken from the asylum. The reports, 
drawn up by him, detail many instances of those who were not 
only reclaimed and restored to society, but evidently convert- 
ed to God by the means thus used ; and who showed this by a 
long course of consistent conduct, — terminating, in several 
cases, in a Christian and happy death. 

It might be observed, that my father printed an abridgment 
of his discourse on Repentance, (forty or fifty pages,) and gave 
a copy to each patient discharged from the hospital, who chose 
to apply for it. He also published a little tract, entitled, '' Hints 
to Patients in Hospitals," not adapted exclusively to the case of 
those among whom he laboured. 

An extract of a letter written by him in May, 1789, may 
be properly introduced in this connexion. It may both dis- 
play the strength of his feehng upon such subjects, and convey 



J 785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 155 

a useful hint to more than one description of persons. It 
should be remembered that it comes from one, who had ample 
opportunity of knowings the truth of what he asserts. 

'*• By no means let come to London, if you can help 

it. I look upon the young* women who come to London for 
places, (a few prudent and very clever ones excepted.) just in 
the light I do upon the cattle that come to Smithfield market ; 
they come to be a prey to the inhabitants. I wonder any of 
those who have not very prudent and friendly connexions es- 
cape prostitution. ... At every offence, girls are turned out of 
doors with a month's wages, often in the evening, and at an 
hour's vvarning. They have lodgings to seek : a set of wretches 
let lodgings, who make it their study to betray them into situa- 
tions from which few escape. Often their clothes are stolen : 
if not, they are pawned for money to pay expenses, and in a few 
weeks they are thus stripped of apparel, and can go to no place 
at all. In short, dangers are innumerable, and the number 
that without any such previous attention, are seduced and be- 
come prostitutes, and perish without any regarding it, is incredi- 
ble. It is shocking to me beyond expression : and I think I 
should leave London with pleasure, for this single circumstance, 
did not a sense of duty at present detain me : but perhaps that 
will not long be the case. — But ail will be well, and will end 
well, for them that trust in and serve God." 

The narrative proceeds : '•'- In the summer of 1787, 1 visited 
Olney and the vicinity, and there preached a sermon on Phil. i. 
9 — 14, which I afterward printed, chiefly for the benefit of my 
late people there : but it has since been repeatedly published, 
in an extended form under the title of ^ A Treatise on Growth 
in Grace.' " 

The visit here referred to w^as not the first which he paid to 
his beloved people in Buckinghamshire : he had been with 
them in the autumn of 1786. Nor was this sermon the only 
proof of his care for them. From letters to a principal parish- 
ioner at Ravenstone, I find that he sent them frequent supplies 
of books, wrote them pastoral letters adapted to their circum- 
stances, and made remittances of money for the relief of their 
temporal wants. From this correspondence I shall introduce 
some extracts in their proper place. 

He proceeds concerning his publications : " Having added 
this discourse to the Force of Truth, the Treatise on Repent- 
ance, and the Sermon on Election and Final Perseverance ; 
and finding nothing which I published sell, even so far as to 
pay the expenses, I concluded that I had mistaken my talent, 
and almost resolved to print no more. Yet I had much spare 
time, and I found little either advantage or comfort in visiting. 



156 FHOM QUITTIKG OLNEY TO [cHAP. IX. 

" For some time I had frequent invitations to meet dinner- 
parties formed of persons professing religion ; and I generally 
accepted them ; yet I seldom returned home without dissatis- 
faction, and even remorse of conscience. One day (the Queen's 
birth-day,) I met, at the house of a rather opulent tradesman, a 
large party, among whom were some other ministers. The din^- 
ner was exceedingly splendid and luxurious, consisting of two 
courses, including every delicacy in season. Some jokes pass- 
ed upon the subject ; and one person, in particular, a minister 
of much celebrity, said, ' If we proceed thus, we shall soon 
have the gout numbered among the privileges of the gospel !* 
This passed off very well ; but in the evening, a question being 
proposed on the principal dangers to which evangelical reli- 
gion was exposed in the present day, when it came to my turn 
to speak, I ventured to say, that conformity to the world among 
persons professing godliness was the grand danger of all. One 
thing led to another, and the luxurious dinner did not pass un- 
noticed by me. I expressed myself as cautiously as I could 
consistently with my conscience ; but I observed that, how- 
ever it might be needful for Christians in superior stations 
sometimes to give splendid and expensive dinners to their 
worldly relations and connexions, yet, when ministers and 
Christians met together as such, it was not consistent ; but 
should be exchanged for more frugal entertainments of each 
other, and more abundant feeding of the poor^ the maimed^ the 
lame^ and the blind, (Luke xiv. 12 — 14.) — Probable I was 
too pointed ; and many strong expressions of disapprobation 
were used at the time : but I went home as one who had thrown 
off a great burden from his back — rejoicing in the testimony of 
my conscience. The consequence was, a sort of tacit excom- 
munication from the circle. The gentleman at whose house 
this passed, never invited me again but once, and then our din- 
ner was, literally, a piece of boiled beef. He was, however, I 
believe, a truly pious man, though misled by bad examples and 
customs. He always continued to act toward me in a friendly - 
manner ; and, though I had not seen him for several years, he 
left me a small legacy at his death. 

" By these means I had still more unoccupied time, which I 
did not well know how to turn to good account ; for I found 
little opening or encouragement in attempting to visit and con- 
verse with the poor ; and I had neither the same views of pre- 
paring for future service, by study, that I have since had, nor 
the means of obtaining proper books for the purpose. Yet, in 
one way or another, I was always employed." 

The above observations lead to the account of my father's 
undertaking his commentary on the Scriptures. We have now, 



1785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 157 

therefore, arrived at the eve of his commencing the great work 
of his life; and, previously to entering upon its history, it may 
be advisable here again to pause, and review such parts of his 
correspondence as have come to hand, illustrative of the period 
and the subjects which have already passed before us, and of 
his situation and proceedings at the Lock even to a somewhat 
later date. 

To his elder sister he gave the following account of his new 
situation and enployments. 

'^January 19, 1786. lean form no manner of conclusion 
whether this removal will be an advantage or disadvantage to 
my secular interest. However, I have acted according to my 
judgment and conscience, and find no difficulty in leaving the 
event to him who says. Seek first the kingdom of God^ S^c, . . . 
The Sunday morning congregations are large, and many of them 
persons of rank and fortune, who yet approve of our unfa- 
shionable doctrines. I preach likewise every other Wednesday 
evening, and every Friday evening, to considerable numbers : 
at stated times in the week I visit the patients, explain the 
Scriptures, and pray with them. They are in general of the 
most wretched and abandoned of the human species, many of 
them common prostitutes : yet, remembering that Jesus himself 
disdained not to preach to such, and told the proud Pharisees, 
that the publicans and harlots entered into the kingdom of heaven 
before them^ I take pleasure in this work, and expect much 
good from it : and I find the poor wretches exceedingly atten- 
tive, and very much aflTected- Jesus Christ is able to save to the 
uttermost all them that come to God by him ; and him that cometh 
unto him^ he will in no wise cast out. Nothing is wanting but 
to convince them all of their need of such a Saviour. — About 
seven hundred of these poor creatures pass through the hospi- 
tal in the course of a year. So you see I have some work, but 
I want more." 

A letter to his younger sister. May 6, 1786, notices a publi- 
cation which has not been mentioned in the narrative. '' Dr. 
Conyers of Deptford, (a very excellent minister,) died, almost 
in the pulpit, last Sunday se'nnight : and last Sunday, I preach- 
ed a serrnon at the Lock with some reference to this event, 
which I have been applied to, from a respectable quarter, to 
commit to paper ; probably for publication. This must be 
done immediately." The quarter from which the application 
came, was, I believe, the late John Thornton, Esq. whose friend- 
ship my father enjoyed, and whose sister Dr. Conyers had 
married. 

The case of an orphan niece, in a precarious state of healthy 
gave occasion to the following judicious advice in the same letter. 

14 



158 , FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX. 

" I would hope, and have you hope the best of her in respect 
of spiritual concerns ; but would have her fear the worst. 
Long experience convinces me that no mistake is more com- 
mon or fatal, than too hastily encouraging persons under se- 
rious impressions to think that they have already passed a sa- 
ving change, and that all is now well. Representing salvation 
as invariably consequent upon a diligent, humble, persevering 
application to Christ, in prayer and the use of means, affords a 
sufficient stay to the newly awakened mind, keeps it attentive, 
and spurs it on to diligence. But should a person falsely think 
all right, this persuasion will soothe his conscience, slacken his 
diligence, and lull him to sleep. Our compassion for persons 
under concern for their salvation often operates in this manner. 
But a skilful surgeon is always afraid of a hasty cure. — This 
hint I know you will understand, and, in speaking to your 
niece, will take care to keep alive a jealousy of herself. — I 
hope I do continue to pray for her, and you, and all my rela- 
tions. I have much cause for gratitude for the past, and en- 
couragement for the others ; especially as 1 am continually get- 
ting auxiliaries to assist me in praying for them." 

To the Rev. John Ryland, Jun., Northampton, now Dr. 
Ryland of Bristol, he thus writes, 

*^May 24, 1786. 1 trust I can truly say, that I also have 
the welfare of all the friends of truth and holiness near my 
heart ; and 1 know but few in my oivn line, that I feel more 
cordially united to, than yourself, Mr. Fuller, and Mr. Sym- 
monds, of Bedford. I hear also that you all have your trials, 
and did I not hear, I should suppose it as a thing of course ; 
because I trust the Lord loves you, and intends to make use of 
you ; and the devil hates you, and fears the effects of your go- 
ings on. From both these causes, trials must spring : but here 
lies the difference, the Lord means your good, the devil your 
hurt : but the Lord will accomplish his design, and make the 
devil, sorely against his will, to be his instrument in so doing. 
I have not rea<i, though I have just seen R. R.'s sermons, who 
seems fast verging towards infidelity or skepticism. The Lord 
preserve us from the p^'ide of learning and abilities. If we 
once think ourselves competent to understand the Bible by dint 
of our own sagacity, and skill in languages and criticism, with- 
out an immediate and continual dependence upon the teaching 
of the Holy Spirit, we are within a few paces of some dreadful 
downfal. Witness Madan, Withers, (though scarcely worthy 
to keep such company,) and R. Robinson, who, in their seve- 
ral publications, all either expressly disavow^, or tacitly pass by 
the mention of such a dependence. — Your intelligence from 
:\cw-England is of another sort, and right glad I am to hear, 



1785^ — 8.] COSIMENOING HIS COMMENTARY. 159 

that now, when, by other accounts, the enemy is coming in like 
a Jiood^ — an inundation of Socinianism, infidelity, and profli- 
gacy, — the sjnrit of the Lord is lifting up a standard against 
him. May he revive his work as in former days among them ! 
— But I must not proceed farther without answering your kind 
inquiries after me and mine. The Lord has enabled me so to 

conduct myself towards Mr. , that, though there may 

not be all that cordiality which might be wished for, there is no 
dissension, nor much shyness. There seemed at first a strong 
and formed party against me among the hearers ; but I beheve 
it will all die away of itself. Mr. S. has withdrawn his assist- 
ance from the charity, and endeavoured to influence some 
others ; but the Lord has raised up new friends and subscribers, 
and the charity sermons exceeded expectation. The congre- 
gation increases, and, consequently, we suppose, the income of 
the chapel. In the year ending Lady Day, 1783, the chapel 
brought in 1601. : the year ending Lady Day, 1786, it brought 
in less than 500Z. Had the inconie continued to diminish, my 
situation would have been very uneasy, if not untenable. Eut 
the promising appearances have encouraged my friends, stilled 
my enemies, and brought over some. At the same time, my 
very homely, plain, rough, practical preaching is received in a 
manner more favourable than I could have imagined. Lord 
and Lady Dartmouth, and a few others of the higher ranks, by 
their approbation, have given a sanction to it. The cry of Ar- 
minian and Papist was raised, but soon died away. Mr. S. 
wrote twice to me, and then gave me up. I question whether 
all the whole number of governors, (two or three excepted,) are 
not staunch friends ; if not out of love to the gospel, yet out of 
regard to the charity. As to success, I can only say, that 
there is a very pleasing and promising attention, and an in- 
crease of numbers ; many of Mr. — 's friends are recon- 
ciled to my preaching, and I preach in many places with tole- 
rable acceptance to great numbers. And among the patients I 
hope some good will be and is done. But another time I may 
be more particular. I believe I have done right. I am glad 
to inform you, that Mr. Foster, and several others, preach fully 
upon our plan, and more are preaching invitingly and practical- 
ly. Dr. Withers gains no regard here, and seems to sink into 
oblivion. I have pubhshed a second edition of the Dis- 
course on Repentance, with some additions, in which I have 
borne testimony against some of his sentiments without men- 
tioning his name. I hope to have done in a few weeks, when 
I shall perhaps see you. We are all tolerably well, and send 
as much love to you all as can be crammed in. Yours aflfec- 
tionately. T. Scott." 



160 FROM aiJITTIKG OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX. 

Another letter to the same correspondent, though of a later 
date, may not improperly be introduced here, as it farther ex- 
plains the writer's views, without any thing else peculiar to the 
time at which it was written, than a slight reference to his Es- 
says then in the course of publication in the form of tracts. 

*•'■ September 30, 1793. The little Essays sell very fast, and 
I hope will have a measure of usefulness. However, truth is 
the only seed from which real hohness or happiness can grow ; 
and unless seed be sown, we cannot expect a crop. Indeed, 
much of it may perish in the ground, and much of it lie dor- 
mant for a long time ; yet our business is, in every way, and 
by every means, to be sowing the truth according to our appre- 
hensions of it, and to trust in God, and beg of him to render it 
productive by his special grace. This is particularly the great 
business of a minister's life ; and, though we often may seem 
to labour in vain, and discouragements may be needful for us, 
to keep us from being exalted above measure^ we shall, I trust, 
find at last, that more of the seed sown was productive than we 
in general supposed. It appears to me that a superficial gospel 
will almost always at first make more rapid progress, than the 
whole truth of revelation solidly proposed to mankind ; (ex- 
cept at such seasons as that which followed the day of Pente- 
cost :) but then these superficial effects die away, and gradually 
come to little ; whereas, the less apparent effect of the whole 
truth abides and increases permanently. This has been re- 
markably the case in the vicinity of Olney : the effect of my 
ministry now appears much more evidently, than when I left 
that situation ; and this encourages me, amidst the manifold 
discouragements of my present station. ^ — You see I take it /or 
granted, in opposition to the verdict of a vast majority of Lon- 
don professors, that I have the truth on my side : and, indeed, 
I have so long and so earnestly examined the sacred Scriptures, 
and considered the various schemes of those around me, with 
fervent, constant prayer to know the truth, more than for al- 
most any other mercy, that I scarcely know how to think that 
I can be mistaken in those grand matters^ in which I differ 
from so many modern professors in the establishment, among 
the two descriptions of Methodists, and among the Dissenters ; 
for, as to lesser differences, I am not very confident, and am 
probably mistaken in many things ; but not willingly. Yet I 
can truly say, that I scarcely ever hear or read any way of 
stating doctrines differently from what I adopt, but I give it a 
fair examination, and seek to know the mind of God respecting 
it ; desiring to be a learner, that I may be a teacher to the end 
of my life. In general, I accord with the American divines : 
and yet in some things, I rather dissent from them ; especially 



1785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 161 

in that, as I think, they rather consider what true religion is in 
the abstract, than as it subsists in the mind of such poor crea- 
tures as we are, with all our infirmities, prejudices, &C. &c. in 
that they sometimes insist on the necessity of seeing such and 
such things, when, perhaps, many upright souls only believe 
them, that is, allow them to be so on God's testimony, though 
they cannot see them so clearly as others do : in that they seem 
sometimes to give too little encouragement to inquirers : and in 
that they would have self-love almost excluded from religion ; 
whereas, it seems to me, that it is a part of our nature as God 
made us, not as sin hath made us ; that sin has only perverted 
it, and that grace recovers us from that perversion, and brings 
us to love ourselves wisely, by seeking happiness in God and 
not in the creature : in which exercise of it, it perfectly consists 
with the supreme love of God, and equal love of our neighbour, 
and with doing all to the glory of God. 

'* When i began to vi^rite, T no more thought of this subject 
than I did of filling my paper, which I have almost done. 
However, as I trust truth is our object, and as we are botli like- 
ly to be placed in situations, if we are spared, in which we shall 
disseminate, perhaps widely, those principles we deem to be 
truth, and as a little deviation may sometimes counteract our 
endeavours, I shall not be sorry now and then, when you have 
leisure, to exchange a letter on these subjects ; as the discus- 
sion of them may be mutually useful to us. I am, dear Sir, 
your afiectionate friend and brother, T. S." 

I shall next lay before the reader some extracts of letters to 
his late respected parishioner, Mrs. Godfrey, of Ravenstone. 

" December 20, 1786. The opposition was so great against 
me here in town since my return from Bucks, that my congre- 
gation seemed almost gone, and other pulpits shut against me ; 
and I thought it scarcely possible for me long to maintain my 
post at the Lock, or in London. I know not that ever I was 
so desponding about any thing in all the time that I have 
preached. But, after much discouragement, I determined to 
make another effort, and both to explain my sentiments to the 
congregation, and to' appeal to the pubhc. I therefore wrote, 
preached, and published the sermon I send you : and, I bless 
God, it seems far to exceed my most sanguine expectations of 
success. Misrepresentation seems silenced, and prejudices dimi- 
nished ; the congregation increases ; a spirit of inquiry ap- 
pears to be excited ; many confess that they did not well un- 
derstand the matter, and that there is a necessity for more prac- 
tical preaching. So that I trust all things shall tend to the far- 
therance of the gospel, and to diffuse more widely, than my 
preaching extends, those views of Christianity, which I have 

14* 



162 FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IK* 

delivered, and you received in your neighbourhood I have 

nothing" to add to the exhortations I have so often given, but 
my prayers that you may abound more and more. The notion 
of rehgion goes down very well, but the devil and the world hate 
the power of it : there we ought to love it. Give my love to all 
your family, and to all the dear people, along with the sermons." 

'' January 25, 1787. We thank you for your present and 
your letter. The former was acceptable, the latter more so ; 
for it reminded me of former times, and revived the assurance, 
that, however the doctrine I deliver may be reviled and slight- 
ed, it is indisputably that doctrine, which is the power of God 
unto salvation; as the lives of many in your neighbourhood do 
testify. If I should exhort you all to go forward, and abound 
more and more in every good word and work ; I doubt not 
that you would in return exhort and incite me to do the same ; 
and, notwithstanding all opposition, and regardless of all con- 
sequences, to preach to all around the same truths which you 
have heard, received, feel, show the effects of, and rejoice in. 
I trust the Lord will enable us all thus to do. But it is griev- 
ous to think to what a degree the blessed gospel is abused and 
corrupted, where it is not openly opposed or neglected ; and 
what numbers are willing to hear a part of the truth, who will 
not hear the whole of it. The time is lamentably come, when 
numbers will not endure sound doctrine^ hut turn away their 
ears from the truths and are turned unto fables. However, I 
I have reason to think, that neither my preaching nor publish- 
ing shall be in vain. — We have numbers of such professors as 
Olney abounds with : but we have a remnant of another sort ; 
and I trust they are increasing even at the Lock. The post is 
very difficult and precarious, but I trust that it will all issue welL 
I have need of much prudence, patience, meekness, and cou- 
rage ; and therefore you have need to pray much for me." 

"June 28, 1787. My journey (into Buckinghamshire) was 
very encouraging and establishing to myself, and I hope to 
others also. I pray God the seed sown may spring up abun- 
dantly, and appear evidently in the lives of believers, and in the 
conversion of sinners. But, when I got home, I began again 
to struggle with my difficulties, and seem to have got into an- 
other world, among another species of creatures : religion 
seems such a different thing among them. Yet I cannot but 
hope, that, in process of time, the same effects will follow as have 
in your neighbourhood. But I am often discouraged, and ready 
to think I shall never be able to keep my post, or do any good 
in it. Then again I am encouraged : and all this is to teach 
me, that the help that is done on earthy the Lord doeth it him- 



1 786— 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 103 

self. — Upon the whole^ every thing concurs to satisfy me that I 
am in my proper place, and doing my Master's work, and 
preaching the truth of God, (though often with much mixture 
of human inlirmity ;) and that it is exceedingly wanted here, 
and that nothing else can rectify the disorders which prevail : 
and therefore, if this doctrine cannot obtain a hearing, or doth 
not produce an effect, true rehgion must be extinguished in the 
congregation. But indeed, London is such a mass of wicked- 
ness, and even religion is here such a superficial shght matter, 
so very yielding and worldly, that every thing I see and hear, 
as well as what I tell, is grievous, When I look into the Bible, 
and view the rehgion therein contamed, it is so pure, so beau- 
tiful, so divine, that I long to see its counterpart on earth : but, 
when I look for it in this and the other church, or denomina- 
tion of Christians, I seem to find nothing hke it ; but its oppo- 
site : hatred instead of love, pride instead of humility, conten- 
tion instead of peace, worldly-mindedness instead of heavenly 
affections, and dissimulation instead of sincerit^^. Yet there is 
even at this time a remnant according to the election of grace^ 
and many more than the eye of man can discover. God saw 
seven thousand in Israel, where Elijah could not find one. 
This is a consolation ; as is also that promise to those who 
sigh and mourn over prevaihng abominations, though they can- 
not cure them. And, if there are so few true Christians, what 
thanks are due to the Lord if we are such, who are by nature 
no better than others ! What dihgence in making our calUng 
and election sure ; what activity in doing good ; and what pa- 
tience in tribulation, rejoicing in hope, and fervency in prayer ; 
ought we not to aim at ! And how welcome will a world of 

perfect purity and love be at last ! We shall be happy to sec 

you when convenient. Mrs. S. joins me in love to you all. 
My love to every branch of your family : the Lord make them 
all branches of his family ! My love to all the people and in- 
quiring friends. Tell them to love one another, and pray for 
themselves and each other, and for me I With sincere affec- 
tion and prayers for you, 1 remain your friend and servant, 

T. Scott." 

The following belong to a later period, but they may be in- 
troduced here to finish at once my extracts from this series of 
letters. 

April 7, 1788, he proposes to send '• one or two" out of his 
twenty-five copies of his Bible, for the perusal of the poorer 
people, who cannot afford to purchase it. 

'^ September 9, 1 794. I am too much engaged in discharging 
the large debt, in which Mr. R.'s failure has involved me, 
to be able to send money (as I otherwise meant to have done^) 



164 FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [OHAP. IX. 

to help my poor brethren, or rather children, in Ravenstone 
and the neighbouring places : but, having finished my Essays, 
I have sent twelve copies to be sold, and the money given 

away Should they speedily go off, I shall be glad hereafter to 

follow them with a similar present ; wishing that 1 had it in my 

power to show my sincere affection in a more effectual way 

I beg all who regard my opinion to do nc^hing hastily, or with- 
out much previous prayer ; not to listen to those persons, who 
w^ill probably attempt to make divisions or proselytes, pretend- 
ing zeal for some important doctrines ; and to endeavour, as 
much as possible, to keep united as one body, waiting to see 
what the event may be of these changes : which perhaps can- 
not at present be well known." 

'^July 2, 1795. The very high price of bread and other 
provisions, continually reminds me of my poor people at Ra- 
venstone, &c. in respect of their temporal provision. I have 
not indeed much in my power, but the Lord gives me plenty of 
things necessary ; and I think it my duty, at such a time as 
this, rather to exceed ordinary rules in helping oihers^ especial- 
ly the household of faith : and none have so good claim on 
rpe as those whom i look on as my children in the gospel, and 
who I trust will be my crown of rejoicing in the day of Christ. ^^ 
— He sends three guineas, and proceeds : '•^ 1 wish I could do 
any thing more effectual to relieve the pressing necessities of a 
people ever dear to my heart : but I hope they will trust in the 
Lord both for temporal and spiritual things, and that more en- 
tirely in times of trouble. I recommend the sixty-second 
Psalm to their consideration at this time, and the thirty-seventh. 
Give my love to them all." 

^'February 14, 1799. As the Lord hath in pecuniary mat- 
ters been very kind to me, in an emergency when I was led to 
expect great difficulties, I think it my duty to make some ac- 
knowledgment, by contributing a httle to the relief of such of 
my brethren as are in poor circumstances." He sends there- 
fore two guineas " My heart is very much with you, and 

I do not always forget to pray for you all : but in this, and all 
other good things, I am too apt to be negligent." 

One more series of letters, from which I shall give a few ex- 
tracts in this place, presents my father in an interesting connex- 
ion with the British and Foreign Bible Society : not indeed 
with its actual formation, (which was so many years posterior 
to this time,) but with the preceding events which led the way 
to it. As the historian of that Society remarks, ^^ The prima- 
ry occasion of all those measures, out of which grew the insti- 
tution of the British and Foreign Bible Society, was the scarcity 
of Welsh Bibles in the Principality, and the impracticability 



1 785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS COMMENTARY. 16b 

of obtaining adequate supplies from the only source existing at 
that period, whence copies of the authorized version were to be 
derived." Accordingly, his history commences with a corres- 
pondence, in the year 1787, between a clergyman in London, 
and a brother clergyman in Wales, which first brought the ex- 
isting scarcity into notice in England. This London clergyman 
was my father. Mr. Owen's first extract is from a letter of his, 
dated May, 1 5, 1787, which, it will be seen, implies a prior com- 
munication from Wales. That communication is in my hands, 
having accidentally escaped the destruction to which my father 
consigned nearly ail the letters in his possession, previously to 
his last illness : and it enables me to carry back the history of 
these events one step farther than Mr. O. has done, it is dated 
March 24th, and refers to a still earlier, indeed a Jij'st proposal 
from my father. The fact, in short, was this . in soliciting 
subscriptions from his friends in aid of some benevolent designs 
which his correspondent was carrying on in Wales,- my father 
called, among others, on the late William Daw, Esq. of Brornp- 
ton Row, who said, '-'• I have a few^ Welsh Bibles by me" — or, 
'^ I could procure some" from what is denominated the Naval 
and Military Bible Society : ^' would they be of use to your 
friend ?" In consequence he proposed the question, and the 
reply was as follows — probably the first expression of urgent 
want which was conveyed to London. 

" March 24, 1 787. You ask me, '- whether a parcel of Welsh 
Bibles would be acceptable.' You could think of nothing more 
acceptable, more wanted, and useful to the country at large. 
I have been often, in my journeys through different parts of 
the country, questioned whether I knew v/here a Welsh Bible 
could be bought for a small price ; and it has hurt my mind 
much, to be obliged to answer in the negative. There are none 
to be bought for money, unless some poor person, pinched by 
poverty, is obliged to sell his Bible to support himself and fami- 
ly. Mr. Williams' Bibles, with notes, are some of them un- 
sold ; but the price, 1 85. , is too high for the poor to command. 
If you can procure a parcel of them for our poor people, I am 
sure you will much rejoice the hearts of many, and do them, 
by the blessing of God, great good. I will promise to dispose 
of them in the best manner I am able : and I think I could dis- 
pose to very good purpose, and make profitable use, of any 
quantity you could procure for me." 

Upon this followed those letters of my father's from which 
I shall now give extracts. 

'^ May 15, 1787. Dear Sir, I received your acceptable let- 
ter, which made my heart rejoice, and caused me to render un- 
feigned thanks to God in your behalf, and the people in your 



16G FROM QUITTING OLNEY TO [CHAP. IX, 

neighbourhood ; and to pray for a still farther blessing upon 
your labours, and those of your brethren. May the work of 
God both sink deeper, and spread wider, till, like the leaven, it 
leaveneth the whole lump ! T have shown your letter to several^ 
and I trust it atFected and influenced them in the same manner ; 
and also in another — for silver and gold I have none to give ; 
but my friends have. In consequence of what you write con- 
cerning the scarcity of Welsh Bibles, I have received twenty- 
five from the Society for distributing Bibles among the soldiers 
and sailors .... and, if they approve of your disposal of them, 
they will send you some more. Besides this, I am collecting 
money to send you a hundred. I have had assistance from Mr. 

Thornton in this, and probably shall have more I trust 

this will be an acceptable present, and a seasonable supply ; 
and I hope many prayers will be offered up in Welsh for my 
friends and myself, which is the only recompense we desire, 
and which we shall highly value." 

He mentions the Lock Asylum, then forming, and adds : 
" Pray for a blessing upon this and all other attempts of your 
poor brethren in London : and, though we are so distant in 
situation, yet, being all engaged in one warfare, under one cap- 
tain, against one common enemy, we may be helpful to one 
another by prayers, exhortations, and encouragements. Let 
us, therefore, endeavour to keep up the communion of saints ; 
and may the Lord give us wisdom, holiness, faithfulness, and 
usefulness, and at length receive us with, Well done^ good and 
faitlrful servants ! Your affectionate brother in Christ, 

T. ScoTT." 

June 11, 1787, he states that he has sent the one hundred 
and twenty-five Bibles altogether ; and that the Asylum is 
opened. — '^ I am surrounded,**' he says, ^^ daily with pretty 
much the same sort of compariy that my Master was, Luke xv. 
1. The Lord grant that I may behave among them in some 
good measure as he did, and speak to them with the same suc- 
cess ! Most people here are very unbelieving about it, and 
think no good can be done : but I am enabled to expect great 
things from the power, mercy, and love of Christ. I would 
believe and hope to see the glory of God in their conversion. 
Indeed I do see some good fruits : and, though there are many 
disappointments, and I am often ready to be discouraged, yet 
upon the whole I think I may confidently say, good is done ; 
and, if God help me to persevere, and neither faint in, nor 
grow weary of, nor act inconsistently with, my work and office, 
I trust I may expect a good harvest at last. — We have raised 
money enough to begin with, and I do not wish to have temp- 
tations to any thing interested or extravagant. At present I 



1785 — 8.] COMMENCING HIS C03IMENTARY. 167 

have refused to have any recompense for my trouble, till the ex- 
periment be tried, at least ; and I hope others also will be as 
disinterested as they can. I would not have any thing to de- 
pend on but God's providence and promise. We want no- 
thing so much as the pouring out of the Holy Spirit for their 
conversion : and ail the rest will be provided for in the Lord's 
time. 

" You rather misapprehend my situation, in supposing that 
I have multiplied opportunities of preaching. For my great 
benefit, I am left with something about me which is very un- 
acceptable among most of the professors of religion. Some 
things requisite for popularity I would not have if I could ; and 
others I could not have, if I would. This, together with some 
suspicions concerning the exactness of my orthodoxy, in the 
point of election, renders even those, who love nie the best, 
shy of asking me to preach. But I feel it is needful and useful 
to me, and I submit to it, and am thankful for it ; for my proud 
heart could never have borne popularity properly : indeed few 
do. — I trust I am in some degree useful. I do the work allot- 
ted me w^ith uprightness, though with many blunders ; should 
be wilhng to do more, if called to it ; and would be submis- 
sively out of employ, if the Lord appoints that for me. — My 
heart is with you. I pray God to prosper you in your extensive 
sphere, and make you long a burning and shining light — a use- 
ful preacher of, and a bright ornament to, the gospel. Beg- 
ging an interest in your prayers, I remain your affectionate 
friend and brother, Thos. Scott." 

January 12, 1788, he mentions difficulties in the way of pro- 
curing more Bibles. — " I have got upon a new scent, but know 
not how I shall succeed. If we should have opportunity of 
buying a quantity, how many dare you engage for ? — You need 
not doubt my v»/illingness to serve you or your people : but at 
times a man's strength is to sit stilly and wait a convenient sea- 
son. But, as far as I can with propriety procure either the 
sale or gjift of Welsh Bibles, I shall count it my privilege to 
send them. 

'^ I am myself very busy, very unpopular, and a little useful. 
I hope to see greater things. Religion of a certain stamp is 
very fashionable in town, and J get much displeasure for oppo- 
sing fashionable religion : but I trust God is with me, and that 
there is an increasing number of helpers." 

April 30, 1788. There has been '^ a prospect of obtaining, 
through the assistance of another society, and with the help of 
Mr. Thornton's purse, no less a number than a thousand 
Welsh Bibles: but, alas 1" he says, "I have only waited for 
a disappointment." He hay, however, the prospect of a few* 



168 COMMENTARY ON [CHAP. X, 

''Ishould have been more sorry," he adds, " at the disappoint- 
ment, did I not know that it could not have taken place unless 
the Lord had had wise reasons for permitting it l" 

'-'- February 24, 1788. If no unexpected hinderance arises, 
you will receive, as soon as they can be got ready and sent, an- 
other cargo of Bibles, one hundred to give away, at Mr. Thorn- 
ton's expense, and the other two or three hundred to sell. . . . 
I believe that the whole impression of Welsh Bibles is now 
nearly exhausted ; and I would be thankful that the Lord has 
made me, almost without auy thought of it, an instrument of 
bringing a considerable number out of the warehouses, to be 
disseminated where they were wanted." 

October 19, 1792. A farther supply of Bibles had been 
procured through a^nother friend, and he says, ^'' I trust that the 
Lord who hath put it into the hearts of so many in Wales to 
love his holy word, will also put it into the hearts of their more 
wealthy brethren in England to use effectual methods of supply- 
ing them with Bibles. I have no counsel to offer : but am 
ready to be active in the good service in any way I can. — 1 re- 
joice to hear, that your people go on well, and are a comfort to 
you : and I think I do feel more willingness than formerly, 
that others should have the satisfaction of enlarged usefulness, 
and I the mortification of much disappointment in that re- 
spect." 

Letters of a later date announce the new edition of the 
Welsh Bible in 1799, consisting of ten thousand Bibles, and 
two thousand additional copies of the New Testament ; out of 
which he appears to have procured eight or nine hundred co- 
pies of the whole Bible ; and the correspondence closes. May 
3, 1800, with observing, '•'•The demand has already so far ex- 
ceeded the impression, that each person is put off with fewer 
than he apphed for, and thought he had secured." 



CHAPTER X. 

HIS COMMENTARY ON THE SCRIPTrRES — DEATH OF MRS. SCOTT. 

" As I had read over the whole scripture repeatedly, I trust 
with constant prayer, and considering how almost every verse 
might be applied, as if I had been called to preach upon it ; I 
had often thought that I should like to preach through the Bi- 
ble : for instruction from every part crowded upon my mind, 
as I read and meditated from day to day. While I was in this 
frame of mind, a proposal was made to me to write notes on the 
scriptures, to be published with the sacred text, in weekly 



1788 — 1817.J THE SCRIPTURES. 169 

numbers. On this proposal, I consulted some, who, as I under- 
stood, well knew the persons making it, and were themselves 
respectable characters. I also consulted my own friends, and 
certainly made it, for some time, a constant part of my prayers 
to be directed aright concerning it : but I am convinced that 
I did not deliberate, consult, and pray, so long as I should 
have done ; that I was too hasty in determining ; and that a 
great mixture of self-confidence, and presumption of compe- 
tency for an undertaking, which if not already executed, I 
should at present tremble to think of, combined with my desire 
of being usefully employed. I had hardly an idea of the ar- 
duousness of the work, and of the various kinds of talent and 
knowledge which it required ; of most of which I was at that 
time destitute. My inclination biassed my judgment. — I must 
also own, that a guinea a week, with some collateral advan- 
tages, which I was to receive, promised to be no unacceptable 
addition to my scanty income ; while twenty-five gratuitous 
copies of the work would prove a useful present to my differ- 
ent relations ; to which purpose I actually appHed them. — It 
was also a gratification to my active mind, and the proposed 
work would give me full employment ; which I most of all 
desired. 

^' It never, I own, occurred to me at this time, that any mar> 
would undertake a publication, which must, at the lowest com- 
putation, cost 2,000Z. or 3,000Z. ; and which would require 
Sol, to be paid down every week ; relying entirely on the sale 
of an incipient work of an obscure author to carry him through 
it ! This proved that I knev/ little of the world : for such pre- 
sently appeared to be the situation of the projector. Yet none 
of my friends cautioned me on this ground. 

" After having proceeded so far as to have, beyond expecta- 
tion, the most encouraging prospects of public acceptance ; and 
having become more and more enthusiastically fond of the em- 
ployment ; I learned, when fifteen numbers had been printed, 
that, unless money could be procured from my friends, the de- 
sign must be abandoned. The pretence, indeed, was, that I 
was likely to exceed the hmits proposed, of one hundred, after- 
w^ard extended to one hundred and twenty, numbers : but it 
was manifest, both from the early period of the complaint, and 
still more by the event that the money and credit of the pub- 
hshers were exhausted.— In these circumstances, I could not 
bear to think of dropping so promising a design ; and I had not; 
courage to venture on executing it on my own account ; though 
liberal offers of pecuniary assistance were made me for that 
purpose. The best object of my undertaking has been an- 
swered far beyond my hopes : but I stumbled on the worst plan, 

15 



170 COMMENTARY ON [CHAP. X. 

as to secular matters, that could have been adopted : and my 
vexations, and distresses, and losses, have been a merciful, yet 
painful correction of my rashness, presumption, and folly. 

" It is not worth while to detail the particulars of my per- 
plexities, and temporary resources, and renewed difficulties, 
and new plans ; or of the debts which I contracted, in order 
to support the sinking credit of the publisher, — for one person 
only now sustained that character, the other having speedily 
seceded. Suffice it to say, that, by the help of friends, and by 
sinking some legacies which came to me, I supported him to 
the close : though the expense far exceeded calculation, and 
indeed what would have been the amount in the hands of a 
prudent and solvent publisher." 

The cost of the first edition, (amounting to three thousand 
copies !) was not less, I believe, than 6,000Z. or 7,000Z. The 
publisher reckoned it at 10,000Z. or 11,000Z. 

"The work extended, indeed, much beyond its proposed 
limits, reaching to one hundred and seventy-four numbers, in- 
stead of one hundred and forty, to which it had been fixed ; 
but all beyond the one hundred and forty numbers I printed at 
my own expense and risk : and all beyond one hundred and 
sixty four I actually gave away to all purchasers of the work 
who would accept them : though that portion cost me much 
above 200Z. 

" At the close I calculated, in the most favourable manner, 
my own pecuniary concern in the work : and the result was, 
that, as nearly as I could ascertain, I had neither gained nor 
lost, but had performed the whole for nothing. As far as I had 
hoped for some addition to my income, I was completely dis- 
appointed ; but, as providence otherwise supported my family, 
and upheld my credit, I felt well satisfied ; and even rejoiced 
in having laboured, often far beyond what my health and spirits 
could well endure, in a work which had been pleasant and 
profitable to me, and which I hoped would prove useful to 
others. 

" But alas ! much beyond my expectation, my pecuniary 
difficulties were only commencing, instead of having come to a 
close. Besides printing, as has been already stated, all the 
latter part of the work, (from the beginning of St, Luke,) on 
my own account, I had advanced the publisher more than 
800Z. — a sum which far exceeded all that I was worth. Still, 
as the copy-right, (which is in such cases usually made the pub- 
lisher's,) had been mortgaged, or conditionally resold, to me 
for security of this money, I thought myself safe. — Moreover, 
as the work was now finished, and sold well, and the publisher 
had for some months been exempted from all outgoings on ac- 



1788 — 1817.] THE SCRIPTURES. 171 

count of it; I had little fear of his being unable to stand his 
ground : and hence I increased my actual loss, which followed, 
by declining to receive some money that I might have had, be- 
cause I thought a near relation of his ought to be relieved from 
the serious embarrassment in which, I was told, he had involv- 
ed himself in order to serve him. 

" Even my more sagacious friends, and those more conver- 
sant with transactions of this nature, were of opinion that the 
publisher's credit was so low, that even in case of failure, his 
debts could not amount to any large sum ; but, in the event, on 
his executing a deed of assignment to his creditors, (within five 
months after the Bible was completed,) claims were made on 
his estate to the amount of above 10,000Z. Still, however, 
with the latter part of the work in my possession ; and with the 
copy-right pledged to me, and vested in me, unless redeemed 
by the payment of all that was my due ; it appeared to me, 
that I could have come in, even before a bill of sale, (which he 
had given,) and have secured my debt, by rendering all the for- 
mer part of the work of little value without my concurrence. 
A statute of bankruptcy would certainly have left me the copy- 
right, and the concluding part of the work. But I feared thus 
to secure payment in full to myself, while scarcely any thing 
was left to the other creditors, would appear a dishonourable 
transaction. I said, ' I can go on with my ministry creditably, 
if I lose 200Z. or 300/. : but if I lose my character for integri- 
ty, or even bring it into suspicion, I cannot.' I consented, 
therefore, to come in as a creditor under a deed of trust, deli- 
vering up all the latter part of the work in my possession, only 
retaining the copy-right irredeemably. — At first, some creditors 
were clamorous against my proposal : but, the solicitor employ- 
ed, soon showing them their mistake, my offer was acceded to 
unanimously : and, at the close of the business, I received from 
the whole company the unavailing compensation of thanks for 
my disinterestedness. 

" I at first supposed, as I believe the other trustees did, that 
a dividend of 7*. or 8^. in the pound would be obtained : but 1 
never received more than 1^. 2d. in the pound on my 840Z. 
and that after long delays. 

" Thus all my little property, arising from a legacy of 150Z. 
from a relation, another of lOOZ. from John Thornton, Esq., and 
some others of smaller amount, was sunk as in a vortex; and I 
was left at lea^ 500Z. in debt. I lost full 600Z. by the publi- 
cation, besides all my labour, and 200Z. given me by friends in 
consideration of what had occurred. 

" But what is still worse, I fell into discredit as to the ma- 
nagement of secular affairs ; of which I felt the effects in ra- 



172 COMMENTARY ON [CHAP. K. 

ther a mortifying manner a few years after, when the trustees 
determined to sell off all the residue of the edition. This I 
could have purchased for 4201. ; and I was morally certain 
that it would produce me more than twice that sum, besides 
precluding all questions about the copy-right : but I could not 
raise the money. At least, being discouraged by those liberal 
friends who had before assisted me, I gave it up in desponden- 
cy, — or rather, I trust, in resignation to the will of God : though 
aware of the consequences, and constantly affirming, that the 
loan of 420Z. at that period would serve me more than the gift 
of 500Z. a year afterward. 

" The whole residue, together with the coj)per-plates, from 
which certain prints accompanying the work had been taken, 
was in consequence sold, in 1798, for 45()Z.,^ to a person who 
purchased it with permission from me to reprint as much as 
forty-one numbers, to complete sets, on condition of paying me 
an acknowledgment of one guinea for each number reprinted. 
This condition, however, he disregarded : and, on the ground 
of possessing the copper-plates, assumed a liberty of printing at 
his pleasure, — thus virtually advancing a claim to the copy- 
right. No bookseller, therefore, could be expected to engage 
in a new edition, unless the work were taken entirely out of this 
purchaser's hands : which led me, about a year afterward, to 
inquire the terms on which he would part with what yet re- 
mained unsold ; when he demanded 900Z. for it, though he 
acknowledged that he had already received double the purchase 
money, and had incurred comparatively little expense ! 

" These circumstances, however unfavourable to my tempo- 
ral interests at the time, have proved a most important benefit 
to the work. Had I sold it to the booksellers, as I should have 
done, could I have secured it against encroachment, without 
having recourse to Chancery ; I could hardly have failed of be- 
ing cramped by them, as to the expensive improvements which 
I contemplated : but, retaining it in my own hands, I added, 
in a new edition, fifty sheets to the comment at an expense of 
lOOl, ; besides the marginal references, which cost more than 
lOOOZ. printing. 

" Many, no doubt, have wondered what could induce me to 
involve myself in pecuniary transactions to the extent I have 
done, which have required me to contract debts that I have 
not yet been able wholly to liquidate ; and to struggle with 

* In a letter handed to me since this sheet was at the press, he says : " I 
would rather have given lOOOi. could I have raised the money, than let it be 
so disposed of. It was like the execution of a dear friend : I would not be 
present ! and I believe the other trustees did not take all proper precautions 
for my security." 



1788 — 1817.] THE SCRIPTURES. 173 

difficulties beyond the conception of most persons, and wholly 
beside my inclination, and my talent and turn of mind. This 
may appear the more extraordinary, after I had firmly declined 
the most liberal offers of assistance, to enable me to take the 
work out of the original publisher's hands, and to print it on 
my own account, — ^on the ground that this would so occupy ray 
mind about pecuniary concerns, as to unfit me for the work it- 
self But the fact was, I had now no other alternative left, if I 
would improve the first rough sketch of a work, which I always 
deemed the grand business of my life. I must either leave the 
whole to be reprinted by the person above referred to, sheet by 
sheet, after the old edition, according as one number or another 
might be wanted ; or I must have recourse to Chancery — 
which I greatly dreaded ; or I must print on my own account, 
which I knew I could legally do. — The very friends also, who 
before decHned advancing me £420, now offered to lend me 
considerably more ; and some others concurred. The book- 
sellers Hkewise assured me that, as soon as the work was so far 
advanced that there were any volumes for sale, it would pay 
its own expenses. Thus encouraged, I ventured to under- 
take it. 

^' For a considerable time all went on well with my new 
edition. The sale actually answered the expenditure, though 
that was little short of £1000 a year : and it appeared proba- 
ble that a profit would accrue to me sufficient to reimburse my 
former losses. But at length such an enormous rise took place 
in the price of paper, attended by a considerable advance in the 
charge of printing, as, together with the additions I made to the 
work, caused my estimates to turn out nearly £1000 too low ; 
and the sale of the whole edition scarcely cleared more than 
prime cost. Indeed every page I added increased my expense, 
without at all advancing the price of the book — which had been 
fixed from the first : and I actually paid at the rate of £13 
for every additional sheet, for the privilege of improving my 
work. 

" To conclude this subject at once. I have been favoured 
to live to superintend a third edition ; and by that I have fared 
somewhat better : but, except the sum given for the copy-right 
since that edition was concluded, I certainly have not cleared 
so much as lOOOZ. for the labours of above twenty-one years. 
— I do not, however, regret this. God has provided for me 
and mine very graciously : by means of this publication, my 
grand design, of accomplishing from the press what I found my- 
self little capable of effecting from the pulpit, has eventually 
succeeded beyond my expectations : and I needed my trials 
and difliculties, both to correct the many evils connected with 

15* 



l"^^ COMMENTARY OK [CHAP. X. 

the undertaking, and to counterbalance any flattering circuni' 
stances arising out of it." 

This history of the production and publication of my father's 
Commentary on the Bible was written in the year 1812. Early 
in the following year all the transactions relative to it were 
brought under the view of the Court of Chancery, in conse- 
quence of the person who had purchased the residue of the 
first edition asserting a claim to the copy-right, and endeavour- 
ing to support an injunction against my father, and the booksel- 
lers to whom the work was now sold. The injunction was in 
the first instance granted, but it was immediately dissolved on 
the case being heard. I have, in some parts, a httle enlarged 
and cleared up the narrative from the report of the proceedings 
on that occasion. A friend, present in court, wrote to my fa- 
ther as follows, immediately after the decision : " The Chan- 
cellor went into all the transactions very minutely indeed ; in 
the course of which he spoke of your conduct, as author, credi- 
tor, trustee, and, at one period, proprietor and publisher of the 
work, in the most honourable terms." — One short extract from 
the printed report may be given. It was contended by counsel 
against my father, that one of the agreements into which he had 
entered with the original publisher was ^^ illegal, as being a lai- 
cal dealings contrary to the canons : on which his Lordship 
remarked, in giving judgment, " Whether it is so or not, I am 
not now called to inquire ; but I think I am not going far out 
of my way to say, that the laical dealings of a clergyman can 
never be less the subject of blame, than when they consist in 
writing, and promoting the circulation of explanatory notes on 
the Bible." 

Previously to this decision, besides all the injury he had suf- 
fered in his property, my father and his pubhshers were assailed 
by advertisements and placards, strongly reflecting upon their 
character and proceedings. But the question was now finally 
set at rest, and the work has been exposed to no subsequent 
inolestation. 

This great work of my father's life was begun January 2, 
1788; the first number was published March 22, following; 
and the last copy was finished for the press, June 2, 1792 ; du- 
ring which period the whole was twice written over by his own 
hand. One great error committed was, beginning to publish so 
soon after entering upon the composition. This caused the au- 
thor to be distressingly hurried throughout his whole progress. 
Sick or well, he was obliged to complete his weekly task ; ex- 
cept as in some few instances he was compelled to plead for a 
short respite, by the suspension of the publication. I have ac- 
tually known him, with great difliculty and sufiering, prepare 



1788 — 1817.] THE SCRIPTURE^. tlB 

as much copy as he thought would complete the current num- 
ber, and then, when he had retired to bed and taken an emetic, 
called up again to furnish more, what he had provided being 
insufficient for the purpose ! It is needless to point out how 
injurious to a work, as well as distressing to an author, such a 
hurried execution must be ; and the reader will agree with me 
in thinking it surprising, that a work, so composed, should have 
been found to possess such intrinsic merit, and gain such ac- 
ceptance as it did, even in its most unimproved state. One ef- 
fect was perhaps on the whole an advantage — especially as any 
disadvantages accompanying it have been removed by the au- 
thor's subsequent indefatigable labours — namely, that he was 
compelled, in the first instance, to be in so great a degree ori- 
ginal ; to give the result of his own reflections almost alone. 
There was little time to consult, much less to transcribe from 
other authors. 

Some time after the conclusion of the work, the original pub- 
lisher actually printed all the correspondence which had pass- 
ed between my father and himself during its progress ; hoping 
to show that he was injured, and perhaps to drive my father to 
make him some reparation : but I beheve the pamphlet com- 
pletely defeated its own purpose, with all who were permitted 
to see it entire. 

On the whole, we may venture to assert, that all the labour^ 
vexation, and distress which attended this work, were such as 
never will nor can be known. But it was to answer important 
ends : and great troubles generally precede great success. A 
playful sally of my father's mind may explain the view which 
he took of his situation, while the work was in progress. The 
publisher wished that the author's portrait should accompany 
it : " No," said my father, " if one of us appears, we will both 
appear together, — upon the same jaded horse, in the middle of 
a miry lane, in which it may be impossible to decide whether 
it is more advisable to push forward, or to attempt a return." 

I shall now present the reader with extracts of letters rela- 
ting to the times and subjects of this chapter. 

To the Rev. J. Ryland, June 1, 1789 : " My engagements 
are so many, and my embarrassments have been so great of 
late, that I have not been able to get on as I ought. My situa- 
tion is difficult, but not without its usefulness As my coming 

to town has introduced me to this, (the publication of the Com- 
mentary,) and some other things which I trust v^ill be useful, 1 
cannot repent of coming ; but J much question whether I can 
keep my station or not. I have made a bold march into an 
enemy's country : and, if I cannot make good my ground, I 
hope I shall be able to make an honourable retreat. I trust 



1 76 GOMMENTARY ON [CHAP. X. 

you do not forget to pray for me, for I much need and value 
your prayers." 

To the same, January 12, 1791. — The following extract re- 
lates to a small publication, which, like some others, came in, 
as by a parenthesis, during the progress of the Bible. — ^^ I have 
been so engaged that I have almost killed myself. In a dis- 
course which you may see advertised, occasioned by the death 
of Mr. Thornton, with no name to it, and that never was 
preached, (on 2 Cor. v. 14, 16,) I have had a considerable 
hand ; and it has cost me the more trouble, because I had not 
the whole direction of it ; though T am answerable for its doc- 
trines. This, added to my other engagements, has made me 
more than work enough, and I am not well at present. I 
would not have it pubhcly avowed that [ am the author of the 
above mentioned discourse, till a few weeks have elapsed : for 
there is a peculiar aim in it, at a class of people whom my 

name would prejudice I bless God, that I may take it for 

granted, that the law of God^ and not the carnal mind, and its 
powers and incHnation, is the rule and standard of man's duty : 
otherwise I could not preach or write without shackles, on any 
subject whatever." 

The discourse here referred to, was composed at the request 
of the late Henry Thornton, Esq., who also made several con- 
tributions towards it. The reasons which prompted the pro- 
posal were these : Mr. H. T. was sensible that many persons 
contemplated the character and proceedings of his late father 
with astonishment, and many even with admiration, who had 
no just conception of the religious principles, which moved him 
to a course of conduct so unlike that of men of wealth and ex- 
tensive business in general ; and so much exceeding the ordi- 
nary standard even of more serious and pious characters. It 
appeared to him, therefore, very desirable to explain the sub- 
ject to such persons ; to take to pieces, so to speak, the machine 
whose movements surprised them, and exhibit the secret 
springs by which the effect was produced. 

The following extract, addressed to the same friend, on 
finishing the Commentary, will not fail to interest those who 
have found edification in the perusal of the work itself 

" June 26, 1792. I have had my hands full, and my heart 

too, by 's means, and am not likely to be soon rescued 

from a variety of concerns, in which my connexion with him 
in this publication has involved me. But he that hath hitherto 
helped me will, I trust, extricate me from all remaining difficul- 
ties ; and it was needful that the whole progress of the work 
should be stamped with mortification, perplexity, and disap- 
pointment, if the Lord meant me to do any good to others by it^ 



1788 — 1817.] THE SCRIPTURES. 177 

and to preserve me from receiving essential injury in my own 
soul. Four years, Rye months, and one day were employed 
in the work, with unknown sorrow and vexation : yet, if 1 have 
the best success in the sale of it, I can expect no emolument at 
all, except the profit on the sets I sell ; whereas I may lose con- 
siderable sums. But I feel quite satisfied on that head : and, 
if any real good be done to a few souls by means of the whole, 
I am at present disposed to be thankful, even though I should 
lose both money, credit, and friends, by means of it. I never 
thought I should live to conclude it ; and it seems to me as a 
dream now I have, and I can scarcely think it a reality. Much 
cause for thankfulness, and much for humiliation, I see, upon 
the review of the whole transaction. I meant well, but I en- 
gaged hastily, and made many egregious blunders : yet I hope, 
through the Lord's goodness, all will end well, 1 do not think 
that my health is injured by my intense application ; but my 
spirits are surprisingly broken : and, whereas I used to rise 
above difficulties, by a certain alacrity and stoutness of mind, 
which I took for strong faith and much patience, I am now 
ready to be alarmed and dejected on every occasion ; and have 
shed more tears since I began this work, than probably I did in 
all the former years of my life." 

In this letter he mentions preaching twice one Sunday at 
Margate. These sermons were productive, in one respect, of 
rather a singular result. In consequence of the absurd repre- 
sentations of them which were made to the Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, the curate was called up to Lambeth. Having pro- 
cured, however, of my father, written sketches of the two ser* 
mons, which he submitted to his Grace, no more was heard of 
the business. 

The following extracts of letters to his elder sister relate to 
his pecuniary losses by the Bible, and his state of mind under 
them. 

"October 25, 1792. I was worth nothing, except my fur- 
niture, when I engaged in this work, (the Commentary,) and if 
after some bequests made to me, I should be in the same 
case when it is done with, I may, and I hope I shall say, The 
Lord gave^ and the Lord hath taken away^ blessed he the name of 
the Lord. — I might have spent my time more unpleasantly, as 
well as unprofitably, than in the labour 1 have had ; which, in 
some respects, has been its own reward : and, if any human 
being gets any real good by it, that forms an additional reason 
for my being satisfied and thankful : whilst the manifold evil that 
has been connected with the whole business requires forgiveness 
and excludes all idea of my being entitled to any reward from 
the Lord ; and I must be very ignorant of human nature, to 



178 COMMENTARY ON [CHAP. X. 

expect much from men for such an undertaking. — I thought 
you would wish to know the state of my mind under what may 
be deemed a trial, but which does not much discompose me. 
I have a fair prospect of paying all their due, and that satisfies 
me." 

In 1794, he had more fully ascertained the extent of his loss- 
es, and he thus writes : 

" March 4. If I said that I was sorry I had written so much 
on the Bible, I own it was my infirmity : but I do not recol- 
lect that I ever expressed myself so strongly ; though the loss 
of all my little property, and feeling myself encumbered with a 
debt of 300Z. or 400Z. without any thing to pay it except a 
very precarious income, did try me for a time very sharply. 
But I am now quite satisfied, yea, thankful ; for various cir- 
cumstances more and more convince me, that it will in time so 
acquire stability, and produce durable good eflTects, that I am 
aware mortifications by the way were needful for me. The 
Lord has also peculiarly favoured me this year ; and I have 
emerged at least 200Z. from my depth of debt within about fif- 
teen months. One friend made me a present of 10' L towards 
my loss. So I say. As for we, / am poor and needy ^ but the 
Lord earethfor me : and I have at present no uneasiness about 
it." 

In 1798, as above related, the residue of the original edition 
was to be sold. Having stated his inability to raise 400Z. for 
the purchase of it, he remarks : " The labour, loss, and disqui- 
etude, have been, and are mine ; but the profit must be given to 
others. Yet I doubt not this is ordered in wisdom, faithfulness, 
and love." 

The following passages relate to the preparation of an entire 
new edition ; the first with marginal references. They are 
from letters addressed to myself. 

" March 14, 1798. 1 am either more indolent than formerly, 
or I do not stand work so well. I feel a need for the petition 
which Mr. Whitfield often made, '- that the Lord would keep 
me from growing slack in the latter stages of my journey.' — I 
every day, however, correct something of the Bible, besides 
preparing the Essays for republication, teaching, &c. ; and I 
feel a strong desire, by some means or other, if I am spared, 
to have the publishing of it in my own hands, when a new edi- 
tion is wanted ; which will probably be ere long. I seem to 
think I could make great improvements : and I am more than 
ever convinced, that a Family Bible, which gains acceptance, 
is one of the most effectual vehicles of antidote against all loose 
views of the gospel, that can be ; because it gets into the fami- 
lies of persons who have any seriousness, even where public 



1788 — 1817.] THE SCRIPTURES. 179 

teachings lean to antinomianism, and may thus greatly coun- 
teract the effect." 

" February 25, 1800. I am very closely engaged in the bu- 
siness of preparing a new edition of the Family Bible : indeed, 
it takes as much mending, thus far, as it did writmg." 

" March 3, 18()0. I have resumed my attention to the He* 
brew, and read every part in that, and in the Greek ; which 
often suggests useful hints and cautions. But revising the re- 
ferences in Brown (to make a selection, to be inserted chiefly 
at the end of each note,) is the great labour statedly occurring." 

Before this month elapsed, he informed me, that he had '^ de- 
termined to have a selection of marginal references." 

" October 29, You say I am in your debt as a correspond- 
ent ; and, indeed, I am in the way to be in every one's debt, ia 
this respect as well as others ; and here, at least to be insol- 
vent. I must, however, not only entreat, but demand, to be 
dealt with on other terms than many are, as I am doing a great 
work^ at least, whether s.good one or not : and I find, as I pro- 
ceed, so much wants mending, and I can so little satisfy myself^ 
that I can hardly hope to satisfy others. I work very hard, and 
yet I do not get on at the rate of more than a sheet and a half 
in a week ; and do not finish any one chapter according to the 
ideal completeness which I had framed in my mind, I trust 
the work has thus far been improved much : and I still flatter 
myself with the hope of getting on faster presently, and of re- 
ducing some parts into a narrower compass : but this has not 
hitherto been the case. The language is throughout abridged : 
but then new ideas are added. . . I do not think any of you, 
that make remarks on the different parts of the work, can 
possibly conceive what it is to keep the whole in view, and to 
finish any chapter as a part of this whole. Had I known and 
felt this formerly as I now do, I should never have dared to 
engage in a work, for which every day makes me more and 
more feel my incompetency. Yet, as it has pleased God to 
give it so much of an establishment, I must now go on, and do 
what I can. But I must deprecate criticism, especially that of 
those who are disposed to judge of a chapter as of a short essay, 
instead of considering of what a vast whole it forms a part. — I 
am, however, very glad of your observations, sent in the man- 
ner they have lately been. They very often suggest improve- 
ments beyond what you, perhaps, had in view. . . Your remarks 
on Leviticus x. made me, at least, a hard day's work : and yet 
I do not think you will be satisfied with what I have done. 
Here, especially, I note that you seem to have forgotten how I 
wrote, sick or well, in spirits or out, lively or dull : the tale of 
bricks must be delivered. I agree with you, that great points 



180 COMMENTARY ON [cHAP. X' 

give the best occasion to practical observations ; but that is 
when a man has the genius, and is in frame to improve them : 
and I often feel a sad deficiency in both respects. Indeed, my 
maturer judgment may correct, and improve what I formerly 
wrote ; but 1 verily beheve I am now incapable of writing de 
novo^ so much to the purpose, and so rapidly, as I then did. 
I would, however, query, whether leading the ordinary reader 
from verse to verse, with useful observations, though not stri- 
king to persons of superior cultivation, may not be as beneficial 
in teaching him to think, and deduce instruction for himself. — 
But enough of this." 

The close of this passage may be considered as the author's 
reply to those who have thought, that it might have been an ad- 
vantage, had the Practical Observations, after all the particulars 
had been explained in the notes, taken up the more general tO' 
pics which a review of the whole suggested, rather than again 
have retraced the passage from verse to verse, which not unfre- 
quently, (especially in the Epistles,) leads to a repetition of 
what had occurred in the explanation. In the historic parts, 
the plan alluded to is frequently adopted : and hence the most 
interesting reflections not uncommonly occur, on apparently 
unpromising chapters.^ 

" January 17, 1803. I am obliged to you for your hints on 
some of the Psalms, particularly the xvth and xxiid. I write a 
great part of the notes over again. I was very ill, and very 
much discouraged, when I hurried over this part of the work : 
and as I am vastly desirous of doing something less inadequate 
on this most delightful part of Scripture, I wish you, with all 
freedom, to give me your sentiments. A man who reads at 
leisure, and has a tolerable measure of taste and judgment, will 
strike out thoughts, and ways of stating things, which his equal 
or superior, in labouring through his daily task, would not hit 
on." 

The observation here made is one, to the benefit of which 
every commentator is certainly entitled. The preacher, or the 
writer remarks on particular passages, selects those parts of 
Scripture which strike his mind, and on which he has something, 
perhaps, more than common to offer ; the regular commentator 
must travel through all alike ; and may thus perhaps rise to a 
less height on many given passages than even inferior men may 
attain. 

In 1807, before the edition in hand was completed, all the 
earlier volumes were so nearly sold off that it became necessa- 



* See, for example, the Practical Observations on Genesis v,-^the cata- 
logue of antediluvian patriarch". 



1788 — 1817.] THE SCRIPTURES. 181 

ry to commence a new one. On this occasion the question re- 
curred, whether my father should undertake the publication on 
his own account, or dispose of the work to the booksellers : 
and it was again decided in favour of the former plan, for the 
same reason as before, — -that he might be at full liberty to give 
it every improvement in his power. " It would certainly," he 
says, ^^ be more agreeable to me to pay all the sums which I owe, 
and to have no farther concern with the trading part of the ser- 
vice : but I do not at present feel this much of a burden to me ; 
and I am conscious that I have property sufficient, and more 
than sufficient to discharge all in due time ; and that both the 
debts and the dealings were the result of a wish to do my best 
to promote the cause of true religion, and proceeded not either 
from the desire of worldly lucre or honour, or from a scheming 
spirit. It was the only possible plan at the time." 

The same letter, (dated March 11,) gives the following no- 
tice of the progress which the work was making on the other 
side of the Atlantic, and of '* a mark of esteem and regard" 
there conferred upon the author, of which, though he would 
meet it with a return of respect and gratitude, he never thought 
it proper farther to avail himself. — ^^ I had two letters from 
North America about three weeks since, in one of which I am 
informed by a bookseller, that he has twelve hundred subscri- 
bers for the Bible, and expects a great many more ; and that it 
is read with approbation by the religious people of all descrip- 
tions. As a proof of this approbation, the packet contained 
a parchment by which I am constituted D. D. by the Dickenso- 
nian College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania, by persons whose names I 
never before heard. What use I may make of this honorary 
distinction is a subsequent consideration : but the whole en- 
courages me to hope that my labour is not in vain." 

The letters referred to, (which are now before me,) assured 
him that " if he could know half the extent of good which had 
already resulted to the interests of our glorious Redeemer's 
kingdom in that country, from his Commentary and other works, 
his joy would he fall.'''* 

In April, 1809, we find the third edition advanced about 
half way towards itscompletion. '^ I was not aware," the au- 
thor writes, " at the beginning of the former edition, that the na- 
ture of the work would render the printing so tedious : (for it 
never stopped for me one day, except when I lost the preface :) 
and nine years was far more than I looked forward to : . . . but 
three years, that is, a year and a half from this time, may with- 
out difficulty finish the present edition. .... On the whole, I 
believe few persons would have found co arage and pertinacity 
to struggle through all the difficulties of so vast an undertakingj 



182 COMMENTARY ON [CHAF. X. 

as compared with my circumstances : and, though many may 
see, or think they see, mistakes in my manner of conducting 
the work, on the most careful review, I cannot see how I could 
consistently with my principles, and with reserving the copy- 
right, have done materially better. I have accomplished my 
object ; and am more disposed to rejoice and be thankful, than 
to complain." 

At the close of 1810, my father contracted with the present 
proprietors for the sale of the copy-right, for which he eventu- 
ally received 2,000Z., and for the remaining copies of the third 
edition. The following year they proceeded with a new edi- 
tion : and near the close of 1812, the injunction against them 
was obtained, by representations which could not be substan- 
tiated. My father wrote concerning it, as follows, January 22, 
1813. 

" Could it be estabhshed, the consequences would be, the 
sweeping away of all my little property ; the locking up of 
5,000Z. expended by the purchasers of the copy-right, besides 
the money paid me, — which they would have aright to reclaim : 
and the perpetuating of the first edition, with all its imperfec- 
tions on its head, to the exclusion of all subsequent improve- 
ments ; unless some compromise could be submitted to. . . 
It is wholly in the breast of one man, (the Chancellor,) to de- 
cide : but that man's heart is in the hand of the Lord! . . . 
Pray that I may be enabled to act as it becomes a Christian, 
and an aged mmister of Christ, in the business ; and, as to the 
rest, the will of the Lord be done.''"' 

Another extract of about the same date is communicated to 
me by the Rev. Mr. Mayor. ^'' An instance of his disinterested- 
ness," says that esteemed friend, ^' I have before me, when re- 
lating the difticulties he was placed in by 's suit. Besides 

the ruin which it would be to his property, which would oblige 
him to throw himself upon his creditors, and for maintenance 
iipon God's providence, he laments the heavy loss it would be 
to the purchasers of the copy-right, and adds : ' Should he suc- 
ceed, it would render all my labours in this respect, for the last 
twenty years, at present useless. But if God see the work 
suited to be an instrument for promoting his glory, neither the 
devil nor his factors can hinder its circulation ; if not, let it go 
to the dogs. As to the rest, were I a poet, I would add ano- 
ther line about authors to those of Virgil, 

* Sic vos non vobis vellera fertis, oves,' &c. 

If good be done, let both the profit and the credit go to others. 
I exult that 1 am not the injurious, but the injured party.' '* 



1788—1817.] THE SORIPTURES. 183 

Mr. Mayor proceeds : " From a subsequent letter of the 12th 
of February, 1813, I could not but admire his perseverance, in 
preparing a new edition to be printed at some future period, 
notwithstanding the uncertainty of the present use or emolu- 
ment to be made of it." 

February 11th, after having been twice in London upon the 

subject, he says : ^' I finished my answer to 's affidavit, 

made my own, and signed it on the 29th ult.; and, after a most 
wearisome time to body and mind, returned home on the 30th, 
fully expecting to hear the Chancellor's decision in a few days : 

but hitherto I have heard nothing I was very poorly in 

town, worse than usual, and feared returning home quite ill : 
but 1 did not. I have, however, been very weak and low since,, 
as if recovering from a fever ; but I rather get better, and the 
spring is coming on. Close study, which is too much for me, 
is, next to prayer, my chief relief from gloomy thoughts : but 
they are not so much about my temporal vexations, as concern- 
ing the reason why God thus contends with me. . . . While ful- 
ly conscious before Him, that I never meant to injure any man, 
so many other things recur to my remembrance, as to the pre- 
sumption of my undertaking, and all the evil attending the 
whole prosecution of it, that I am often much cast down : yet 
hope prevails." 

The following extracts of a letter addressed to his daughter, 
two days previously, farther illustrate his state of mind at this 
anxious period. — The first is from another hand. 

^' February 9, 1813. Your father returned from London very 
poorly, but, through mercy, not laid up as on former occasions ; 
for the next day, he preached two excellent sermons, on. Set 
your affections on things above^ and. The end of all things is at 
hand. The first, especially, was most adfnirable." 

The next is his own addition to the letter. 

" speaks as if a final settlement of 's business 

might soon be expected ; but I am far from being so sanguine. 
The gross blunders of my former lawyers, and the clumsiness 
of the deeds, throw intricacy on what we might think so plain 
that the event was certain. What the partners are doing I can- 
not conceive. Eleven days have elapsed since I completed my 
answer, which 1 supposed would have been brought into court 
directly. . . . However, I am not anxious. Let who will take 
property and credit, if the Lord Jesus does but receive my soul ! 
But should it go wholly against me, I shall never more, as far 
as I can see, have money for travelling expenses, except un- 
avoidable " 

The next letter, (dated March 12th,) brought intelligence 
that the injunction was dissolved. The partners handsomely 



184 COMMENT ABY, &.C, [CHAP. X. 

defrayed all expenses of the suit : and here my father's embar« 
rassments, though not his labours, respecting his commentary, 
ended. 

The first edition of this work, completed in 1792, consisted 
originally of three thousand copies : but after all that remain- 
ed of it had been sold in 1798, for 460Z., (the retail price of 
little more than one hundred copies,) it continued to be reprint- 
ed, as different parts were wanted, by the purchaser, and after- 
ward by others into whose hands it came, and who advertised 
their reprints as a third edition : and was sold exclusively till 
1802, and then jointly with my father's editions till 1814 : so 
that it is making a low calculation, to say that it extended to five 
thousand copies. The first edition, with references^ commenced 
in 1802, and completed in 1809, consisted of two thousand : 
the second begun in 1807, and finished in 1811, of the same 
number : the third, which was in the course of publication from 
1812 to 1814, of three thousand. The edition, on the revision 
of which the author laboured from the year 1818 till the very 
commencement of his last illness, and which is just completed, 
is in stereotype : and forms, I presume, the largest work ever 
submitted to that process. The copy was fully prepared by 
himself for the press to the end of 2 Timothy iii. 2 ; and for the 
remainder he left a copy of the preceding edition, corrected, 
though less perfectly, to the very end of Revelation ; from 
which the work has been finished, according to his own final 
directions, and, in concert with his family, under the care of a 
person who had been his literary assistant in carrying it on, and 
in whom he placed entire confidence. 

Besides these English editions, amounting to at least twelve 
thousand copies, I have received from an American bookseller 
of respectability, the particulars of eight editions printed within 
the territories of the United States, at Philadelphia, New- York, 
Boston, and Hartford, from the year 1808 to 1819, amounting 
to twenty-five thousand two hundred and fifty copies : besides 
an edition of the sacred text only, with my father's references, 
contents of chapters, and introductions to the several books of 
Scripture. 

The retail price of all the English copies, taking their num- 
ber as above stated, (which 1 believe to be short of the truth,) 
would, I find, amount to the sum of 67,600i!. : that of the 
American copies, to 132,300Z. ; making together 199,900Z. [or 
eight hundred and eighty-seven thousand five hundred and fifty- 
six dollars.] Probably no theological work can be pointed out, 
tvhich produced, by its sale during the author's life-time, aa 
equal sum 



1790 — 3. J DEATH OP MRS. SCOTT. 185 

To his history of his Commentary my father subjoins the 
following paragraph : 

'*• In the same year that the Bible was begun, my youngest 
son (Benjamin) was born, and two years and a half afterward, in 
September, 1790, my wife died; while my hands were full of 
employment, and my heart of most overwhelming cares : so 
that my distress and anguish, at that period, were beyond what- 
ever will be known or conceived by others, at least in this 
world. But the Lord, in unspeakable mercy, gave me my pre- 
sent wife, who has proved in every respect a blessing to me 
and my children ; a very useful assistant in mv various labours ; 
and I trust an instrument of good to numbers." 

I shall add little to what my father has here said upon this 
subject- Of the overwhehning distress which he felt on my 
mother's decease, I could bear striking testimony : and many 
could join me in declaring the tender affection with which he 
ever cherished her memory. If any one should be ready to 
think the fact of his marrying again, within much less time than 
is usual on such occasions, an evidence to the contrary, I con- 
fidently affirm that such a person is Jiiistaken ; and I fully be- 
lieve that, if the whole case could be fairly laid before a wise 
and impartial judge, he would justify my father's conduct. Let 
it be considered in what circumstances he was left — with four 
children of an age peculiarly requiring superintendence — with- 
out any person to take charge of them superior to a servant — 
himself involved in labours and struggles, sufficient, one would 
imagine, not only to occupy all his time, but to wear down his 
health and spirits — his habits so perfectly domestic, that he 
never thought of seeking relaxation out of his own doors, unless 
it were a short walk, and one evening in a fortnight in meeting 
his clerical brethren in a private society. To them he submit- 
ted his case and the question of his marriage : they did not 
disapprove the measure, and he determined upon it. His situ- 
ation was peculiar ; nor was his character quite of the ordinary 
standard. I am persuaded he acted rightly, and that the bless- 
ing of heaven followed the step he took. Indeed mo person 
could be more happy than my father was, in both his marriages. 
Of the person who, formed the object of his second choice, as 
she survives him, I shall say nothing more, than that the whole 
family concurs in the sentence which my father pronounced on 
his dying bed, " That she had been an unspeakable blessing to 
him and his for more than thirty years." 

I annex a few letters connected with the changes which have 
thus been adverted to. They are valuable in themselves, and 
tend farther to illustrate the character of the writer. 

16* 



186 OCCURRENCES FOLLOWING [cHaP. ST. 

The following letter announced the death of my dear mo- 
ther to her sister, and through her to the rest of her family. 

" Chapel-street, September, 9, 1790. Dear sister, I should 
be glad to spare you, and our poor aged mother, and my other 
friends in Northumberland, the pain and sorrow that this letter 
must occasion ; but it must not be. Your dear sister is gone 
to heaven before us ; and has left many, and me especially, and 
her children, selfishly to lament, that she is no longer a sinner 
or a sufferer, and almost to wish her back again. She was 
taken about a fortnight ago, with apparently a slight indispo- 
sition in her stomach, which it was thought some trivial medi- 
cines would remove ; but it proved obstinate, and at length 
terminated in fever and nervous delirium, and baffled every 
effort of the medical gentlemen who kindly attended her. She 
died yesterday a little after seven in the evening. — I see, and trust 
you will see, and submit to the hand of the Lord in this most 
painful dispensation : and I would study how to get comfort 
under it, and derive benefit from it. But my heart rebels 
against my judgment frequently ; and I feel my loss to be so 
great, that gloom and distrust rush in. Yet the Lord can make 
it up to us by his own all-sufficiency. — I can truly say, that, 
during the fifteen years and three quarters that the Lord hath 
lent me this loan, I have valued it more and more daily. In 
^very sense, she has been a blessing to me, even as a minister, 
as well as a Christian : and few persons have died more gene- 
rally and justly lamented by all that knew her. But the 
Lord gave^ and the Lord hath taken away ; and blessed be the 
name of the Lord ! I would say so from my heart : though it 
aches when I attempt it. The last time she had the clear use 
of her faculties, she expressed the fullest joy and confidence in 
the Lord, and assurance, that, if she died, she should go to be 
with Christ : and she wished me to say to all her friends, as her 
last advice, that they would never know happiness, till they left 
all other dependencies and vain pursuits, to seek salvation and 
comfort by faith in Christ crucified, and in communion 
with God through him. She was greatly rejoiced by your last 

letter : but she would have said a good deal to brother 

about the snares of the world, and the danger of milling to be 
rick^ if he had stood by her bed-side. I must leave it to you to 
break the melancholy subject to our mother, as you see best. 
.... My dear, unknown sister, to whom I sincerely wish all 
happiness for my poor wife's sake, this world, beheve me, is a 
bubble : we shall soon be in the same situation with her ; let 
us, then, seek the one thing needful more diligently, even that 
good part which shall never be taken away." 



1790 — 3.] THE DEATH OF MBS. SCOTT. 187 

To the husband of the same correspondent, April 4, 179L 
'' I should have written before this, had it not been for my ex- 
cessive engagements ; notwithstanding that 1 was aware you 
and other friends in the north would not be very well pleased 
with the step which you have heard I have taken. But, what- 
ever you may suppose, I certainly acted most conscientiously 
in what I did ; and, I doubt not, this will appear in the day 
when all the motives of all actions shall be made known. A 
variety of peculiarities in my situation, disposition, &c. render- 
ed it necessary for me to deviate from the etiquette of human 
custom, if I would go on with my many and important under- 
takings with a quiet mind. I have no doubt that your dear de- 
ceased sister, could she come to give her opinion, would sanction 
my conduct. . . .Nobody that knows me, and my behaviour to 
her, from the time we met till that most distressing hour of my 
life when the Lord separated us for a season, will suppose that 
my conduct arose from want of love to her, or of respect for 

her memory ; which will be dear to me to my latest hour 

I can only add, that I shall always be glad to see or hear from, 
or do any service to any of you, as much as ever : and I have 
not forgotten my proposal made to my mother last year, as I 
mean shortly to evince. Whenever you come to London, you 
will meet with as hearty a welcome in my house as ever, if you 
will favour me with makmg it your home My most affec- 
tionate and dutiful remembrances to my mother Kell. May 
the Lord be her support and comfort under the infirmities of 
her old age ; and in the hour of death, and her portion for ever. 
I seldom forget to pray for you, that you may be all made meet 
for the inheritance of the saints in light ; that we may be there 
united for ever after the various changes and troubles of this 
sinful world." 

The following letter he addressed to his deceased wife's mo* 
ther. 

"Augusts, 1791. Honoured Madam; Unexpected inci- 
dents, arising from the expensive publication in v/hich I am 
concerned, have rendered it inconvenient to me to send the en- 
closed lOZ. sooner ; though the delay has grieved me. I un- 
derstand that you now reside with brother ; yet there 

may be many little matters, tending to the comfort of your ad- 
vanced age, that you may wish for, and should have in your 
power. Probably as the providence of God hath ordered 
matters, you and I may never meet in this world ; but your 
present comfort and future felicity are and must be near my 
heart, for the sake of your valuable daughter, — now a saint in 
glory, surrounded with her three children that went thither be- 
fore her, as I am fully satisfied. Whilst it pleases God to con- 



188 DEATH OF MPS. SCOTT, &C. [CHAP. X. 

tinue your life and mine, you may be assured of the same sum 
every year, and probably earlier next year than I have at pre- 
sent been able to send it ; and I hope you w^ill oblige me by re- 
ceiving it without hesitation : else you will add another sorrow 
to the many I have experienced. If you knew all that (cod 
knows of the circumstances in which I have been placed, you 
could not blame, you would approve of the step I have taken, 
since it pleased God to take your dear daughter to himself Sit- 
uated and engaged as I was, it was literally impossible for me 
to proceed in any other way. . . .1 remain, dear madam, with 
sincere affection, and good wishes, and prayers for your pre- 
sent and future felicity, Your's affectionately and respectfully, 

Thomas Sgott." 

I add one more extract, from a letter addressed, hke the first, 
to my mother's sister, and dated January 23, 1793. 

" It cannot have given any person more satisfaction than it 
has done me, that the Lord put it into my power to add any 
thing to the comfort of the aged mother of her, who was so long 
my choicest earthly blessing, and whose memory must ever be 
dear to me. Though I have never seen her, I cannot but feel 
a measure of filial respect and affection for her, as well as love 
for you and yours : and I should rejoice at the opportunity of 
conversing with you, if the Lord saw good. But that is not 
likely in present circumstances. My desire, therefore, and 
prayer are, that we may be found among those, whom Jesus 
hath redeemed unto God with his bloody and may meet in hea- 
ven to spend together a joyful eternity. — We are all poor sinners, 
in our best estate ; and they who know their own hearts most, 
and are best acquainted with the spiritual law of God, will be most 
ready to make allowance for others, as well as most prepared 
to value the atonement, grace, and salvation of our divine Re- - 
deemer : and thus alone can we be made meet for the inheri- 
tance of the saints in light. You have no reason, therefore, to 
write with timidity to such a poor, weak, wretched sinner as I 
am. The Lord hath shown me a httle of his glorious salvation, 
and I bear witness, in a feeble manner, to his preciousness, his 
power, truth, mercy, and grace : but 1 have no reason to as- 
sume any precedence above the feeblest of his disciples ; and 
he alone makes me to differ from the vilest of his enemies ; and 
must preserve that difference, if it continue — as I trust it will 
..... I send you all the numbers to complete three copies of 

the Bible I sent the third copy for my mother, at my late 

dear wife's desire. If then you have sold it, the money is pro- 
perly hers ; and I hope you will employ it in any way for her 
comfort, and that you will fairly tell me, whether any more can 
at all alleviate her sufferings in her present state. Depend 



1 792 — 1 802.] FINISHING HIS COmiENTARY. 1 89 

upon it, neither I nor my family shall be hurt by it. — Give my 
dutiful love to her, and tell her that it is my fervent prayer, that 
the Lord would be her support, comfort, teacher, and Saviour ; 
and that, at last, she may, in humble and lively faith, commend 
her soul, as Stephen did, into the hands of the Lord Jesus ; that 
so we may all meet in heaven. .... 

I remain your sincerely affectionate brother, 

Thomas Scott." 
At a subsequent period, the families were connected by fresh 
ties. 



CHAPTER XI. 

ADDITIONAL PARTICULARS FROM THE TIME OF FINISHING lllB 
COMMENTARY TO THE EVE OF HIS REMOVAL FROM LONDON. 

In giving a connected view of the transactions relative to my 
father's Commentary on the Scriptures, we have unavoidably 
been carried forward beyond the regular series of events, even 
past the time of his removal from London. He himself, in- 
deed, has recorded little in his narrative concerning this whole 
period, beyond what is already before the reader. Some par- 
ticulars, however, may be collected, especially from his letters, 
which must not be omitted in the history of his life. 

We may first advert to the several works which he published 
within the period assigned to this chapter, and which may be 
mentioned in two or three classes. 

His " Impartial Statement of the Scripture Doctrine in re- 
spect of Civil Gt>vernment, and the duties of Subjects," was 
published near the close of 1792 ; his ^'-Rights of God," (a 
title suggested by the eager discussions carried on concerning 
the rights ofman^ in 1793 ; and his '^Vindication of the Di- 
vine Inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, and the Doctrines con- 
tained in them, in answer to Mr. Paine's Age of Reason," 
in 1796. — These pubhcations were directed against the infidel 
and anarchical principles at that time so widely diffused in the 
nation. '' The Rights of God" was undertaken, and the title 
adopted, at the suggestion of another person. Probably the 
title was not well chosen, and the work attracted less notice 
than, perhaps, any other production of its author. The two 
other pieces were repeatedly printed, (particularly the Answer 
to Paine, in America as well as at home,) and obtained a pretty 
wide circulation. Some things concerning them may be col- 
lected from the author's letters. 

His sending the first mentioned tract to his dissenting friend 



190 FINISHING HIS COMMENTARY [CHAP. XI, 

now Dr. Ryland of Bristol, gave occasion to the expression of 
some of his political. sentiments, particularly as connected «with 
the duties of Christians. ' 

'•' December 5, 1792. You will receive with this a few co- 
pies of a publication on a subject mentioned in your last ; not 
on politics, but on the religious question connected with them. 
I have endeavoured to be impartial ; and I do not expect to 
please either party in these violent times : but I trust moderate 
men will approve most of it, as far as they regard the Bible. I 
am no great stickler for monarchy, or any of its appendages ; 
and 1 trust I am a steady friend to real liberty, in.all cases and 
places : yet, as human nature is constituted, I am apt to think 
a hmited monarchy or mixed government, where one branch 
oversees and checks the others, is best ; and that an absolute 
republic must verge either to anarchy or to oligarchical tyranny. 
But 1 have nothing to do with such questions. I should obey 
under a republic even as under our constitution, if providence 
placed me under it. I also think that our constitution is like a 
good old clock, which wants cleaning, regulating, and oiling : 
but that to knock it in pieces, in order to substitute a new 
French watch in its place, the going of which has not been tried, 
would be impohtic and even ridiculous : yet multitudes are 
bent upon this, and f fear bloodshed will be the consequence. — 
I must also think that many rehgious and respectable dissenters 
have expected too much, in a world of which the devil is styled 
the god and prince ; and where protection and toleration seem 
the utQiost that God's children can hope for. Many also, both 
dissenters and others, have meddled too much with such mat- 
ters : and [ grieve to see that the prejudice, which this has 
infused into the mmd of religious people in the church, is likely 
to widen our unhappy divisions : for they will not make pro- 
per discriminations — My sentiments on our duties you will 
see in the pamphlet : so far, I trust, we shall be agreed : and, 
if our political creed be not identically the same, 1 hope that 
will make no difference. I always thought you so engaged in 
the work of the ministry, and in promoting the kingdom of 
Christ, as to bestow little time about other governments ; and 
I trust you will be so still. — 1 am so far from wishing that Dr. 
Priestly had been burned at Birnnngham, that I am grieved 
that such weapons should have been at all used by those who 
pretended to be friends, either to the doctrines of Christ, or to 
the constitution. I am sorry, also, that the persons you mention 
are so vehement. An enemy hath done it. As far as { have 
influence, I would be a peace-maker : we have enemies enough, 
and should not quarrel with each other." 

To the same, December 24, 1792. ^' I entirely agree with 



1792 1802.] TO LEAVING LONDON. 191 

you, that many things want mending among us : but I fear the 
governed are as much to blame as the governors. The nation 
indeed is a mass of corruption ; and throwing it into a new 
form will not mend it. If North America prosper under her 
ne\v government, the cause is principally to be found in the 
moral state of the inhabitants. The way for the people to re- 
form the government obviously is, by choosing, without any 
recompense, the most honest men they can find for members 
of parliament : but if the senators' votes are bought by minis- 
ters, the electors' votes are bought by senators, not only in the 
rotten boroughs, but in capital cities, and counties ; and almost 
every voter, like Esau, sells his birthright, and then is angry 
that he has it not. If we could see that the counties and large 
cities and towns made an honest use of their privilege, and that 
bribery was the effect of inadequate representation, I should 
then be of opinion that a reform would do good ; at present, I 
fear it would make bad worse — ^at least no better ; for who 
almost is there that does not vote from interest rather than from 
judgment ? I fear we are nearly ripe for vengeance : my 
views are gloomy ; but I think that every violent change would 
accelerate our ruin. 
^***"^'' I am rather a favourer of a limited monarchy ; but would 
not be severe on a mere speculative repubhcan ; though I think 
silence, in that case, is a duty, while the providence of God 
continues us under a monarchy : and I can find nothing in his- 
tory, that should render any but the ambitious warrior, or the 
avaricious merchant, fond of a republic. I am sure that repub- 
lican Greece, Rome, and Carthage, shed human blood, and mul- 
tiplied crimes, to increase wealth or extend conquest, even as 
much as absolute monarchs ; and their intestine oppressions 
and divisions were equally calamitous." 

It is to be remembered that, at the period when this letter 
was written, one of the dogmas attempted to be imposed upon 
a deluded people was, that all wars were to be traced to the am- 
bition of Icings. — In these letters also, the writer appears rather 
to have softened down the expressions of the preference which 
he entertained for the British constitution : at least that prefer- 
ence was certainly more decided and strong at a later period. 
— -It need scarcely be said, that a man of my father's principles 
and discernment was never in any danger of being duped, by 
the boasting pretensions and high expectations which accom- 
panied the earlier periods of the French revolution. He always 
held, that, proceeding as it did upon irreligious principles, and 
being founded in false views of human nature, no good was to 
be expected from it, otherwise than as a remote consequence. 
V*" In respect of the Test Act," he proceeds, '^ I would certain- 



192 FINISHING HIS COMMENTARY [CHAP. Xf. 

ly abolish it, let what would be the consequence ; because I 
deem it the scandal of the church : but, if I were a dissenter, I 
think I should care less about it, for as a religious body, the dis- 
senters will be less led into temptation, when abridged of their 
right in this particular, than if freely admitted to places of trust 
and profit : and, I may be deemed censorious, but, I fear, a loss 
of spirituality renders them more earnest in this matter than 
their forefathers were. As to the supposed preference of the 
Episcopalian ministers who preach the gospel, I see little of it. 
Here, at least, we most of us have less salaries and more work 
than our dissenting brethren. Some few in the church, indeed, 
by family connexions, and other means, get large livings ; but 
probably they would be better without them : and, except by 
family connexions or bought livings, we are almost as much out 
of the way of preferment as our dissenting brethren. For my 
part, I scarcely know what I am except chaplain of the Lock ; 
but I expect, at least, that a good living will be offered to you 
as soon as to me : and it will then be soon enough to say, whe- 
ther I would accept of it. However, I trust I speak as a Chris- 
tian minister, when I say, that toleration and protection are all 
that God's servants can reasonably expect in the devil's world : 
and in fact this is all they should desire. But I fear one effect 
of these disputes will be, the widening of the breach between 
the servants of Christ in the establishment and out of it. Far 
be it from me to vindicate the madness of a mob ; but I do not 
suppose that either the king, or the sober part of the church, are 
to blame for it : more than the moderate men at Paris for the 
late massacres. Many dissenters, chiefly, (would I could say 
wholly,) of the Arians and Socinians, have made themselves 
obnoxious to those who are attached to the present constitu- 
tion ; others have not acted discreetly ; and parties always are 
violent against whole bodies of men : they who run into one 
extreme, drive others into the opposite : moderate men please 
no party, and their voice cannot be heard : thus the war of the 
tongue and pen are the prelude to greater outrages, which are 
rather chargeable on human depravity, than on the principles 
of the party that commit them. I fear, as well as you, lest our 
governors should be too tenacious, and rely too much on the 
temporary advantage they have gained ; yet I see there would 
be impolicy in timid councils. I feel that they cannot safely 
at present offend such numbers as a proper retrenchment of 
expenses would occasion ; and I am so sensible of the impor- 
tance of their measures, and of the peril and delicacy of their 
situation, that I can only pray to the Lord to give them wisdom 
to apply proper remedies to the distempered state of the nation, 
if so be it may be healed. A war, at any rate, must be dread- 



1792 — 1802.] TO LEAVING LONDON. 193 

ed at present : but, could I suppose administrations so impoli- 
tic as to engage in a war in order to exterminate republicans on 
the continent, I should then make up my mind on the business, 
and prepare for the worst. But I do not think they mean this^ 
and how far it may be unavoidable for them to support the 
Doitch, J cannot tell. I am sure, if I could be heard, I should 
say to all the powers in Europe, Unite in telling the French 
Convention, that if they will let other nations alone, and qui- 
etly settle their own government as they please, they shall not 
be molested ; but that, if they will be busy-bodies in other 
men's matters, they must take the consequences.... As to the 
weight of taxes, it is so great, that most of us feel and lament it : 
j^et freedom from war in our borders, from bloody persecution. 
fromTamine and pestilence, should render us patient and thank- 
ful ; nor can the evil be prevented. I have now written a 
long letter, on what I often think of, but do not frequently dis- 
cuss. Let us, my brother, leave worldly people to their dis- 
putes about worldly subjects : let us avoid all attachments to 
parties, and the extremes of all parties : let us endeavour to act 
as peacemakers, especially in the church, and deem ourselves 
far more nearly united in the bond of faith to all who love 
Christ, than we can be to those of our party, either religious 
or political, who do not. Let us pray for the peace of Jeru- 
salem, and give up ourselves to the work of our ministry, and 
then we shall be useful and comfortable at all events. I am^ 
your sincerely affectionate friend and brother, T. S." 

Mr., now Dr. Cary, was at this time seeking permission to 
proceed to India as a missionary ; and I find the following no- 
tices of the subject in this correspondence of my father's with 
Dr. Ryland. 

''April 24, 1793. Mr. Cary brought me j^our letter, and I 
wrote to Mr. Grant about the business ; which was all T could 
do, as every one of my friends v/ould have referred that matter 
to him." 

" May 6, 1793. Mr. Grant expresses the most cordial de- 
sire to serve Mr. Cary. I am sure I cordially approve of the 
plan, and pray God to give success to it : for, if sinners are but 
brought to repent, believe in Christ, and w^alk in newness of 
life, I am satisfied ; and I am quite willing that the Lord should 
work by what instruments he pleases, and rejoice that they are 
multiplied." 

Of the answer to Paine, my father thus writes, April 26, 1796. 
*' I have interwoven all the grand proofs of revelation, and the 
nature and tendency of Christianity, with I trust a sufficient 
confutation of Mr. P.'s cavils. I have not treated him quite 
so genteelly as the Bishop of Landaff has ; ^yho, by the way, has 

17 



194 FINISHING HIS C030IENTAEY [CHAP. XI. 

said many good things, though he seems to give up the point as 
to the entire inspiration of Scripture, and pretends not to an- 
swer objections to the doctrines : but, while I have endeavour- 
ed strongly to expose Mr. P.'s disingenuousness, ignorance of 
his subject, 6cc, I hope I have been kept from a harsh spirit, 
and from retorting his revilings." 

On reprinting the work in 1798, the author made ^' retrench- 
ments," as well as alterations, thinking it '^ no longer necessa- 
ry to squabble' ' with his antagonist, •' v;here he advances ob- 
jections peculiar to himself," though he ^' did not wish to have 
the answers to more general objections out of print." 

The last separate publication of my father's life w^as a new 
and abridged edition of this work, at the beginning of the year 
1820, accommodated to the change of times which had taken 
place. As he had entirely re-written it, and, '• while he great- 
ly abridged it, added much new^ matter, and several striking 
quotations, especially from Bishop Watson," he says, ^^ it may, 
indeed, very properly be considered as a new publication on 
the subject, at the close of his life and labours, than merely as 
an abridgment." 

The ^' Essays on the most Important Subjects in Religion," 
twenty-five in number, were published in the years 1793, 1794 : 
•^ Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, with Original Notes," in 1794, 
1795 ; the twenty-one '' Sermons on Select Subjects," with some 
prayers for families annexed to them, in 1796 ; '^The War- 
rant and Nature of Faith in Christ Considered," in 1797 ; and 
•'Four Sermons on Repentance unto life — The Evil of Sin — 
The Love of Christ — and the Promise of the Holy Spirit," in 
1802. — In all these works, the author's aim was to explain and 
illustrate the great truths of Christianity, and to point out their 
holy tendency. They have all been repeatedly printed ; par- 
ticularly the Essays, eight or nine limes in England, besides 
American editions. This appears to have been, very justly, a 
favourite production, both with the author and the public. It, 
as well as the Pilgrim's Progress, was first published in num- 
bers : each Essay forming a separate number, price one penmy ; 
and the period of publication being once a fortnight. March 
14, 1793, the author writes, '' I compute that I have printed 
nearly one hundred and twenty thousand numbers : about one 
hundred and hve thousand I have sold : the rest I have dispers- 
ed" — that is, given away, or scattered in his walks and jour- 
fieys ; for in this way he was always a considerable distributer 
of tracts. One of these Essays, " on the Ten Command- 
ments," is also on the list of the Religious Tract Society, and 
is widely circulated through that channel. 



i792 1802.] TO LEAVING LONDON. 195 

The Sermons were undertaken at the instance of Mr. Wil- 
berforce, and the lataJflr. Henry Thornton, and were publish- 
ed by subscription. The ''- Treatise on Faith" was con)posed, 
as the title page expresses, ^' with reference to various contro- 
versies o» the subject." In a letter written at the time, (Dec. 
29, 1796.) the author-says-: '^ 1 am about to write a pamphlet 
on the sinner's warrant to beheve in Christ,, and the nature of 
justifying faith, by the desire of several of my brethren ; as the 
American divines, especially Hopkins, with those who hold the 
negative of the modern question, have run into one extreme, 
and many others into the contrary, particularly Mr. Abra- 
li§in_JBooth in a late publication entited, ^ Glad Tidings.' 
I do not mean to engage in controversy ; b_ut to state what 
r think the scriptural view of tlie subject, clearing it from. 
ol^ectLQiiS,- ami guarding against abuses, or answering argu- 
ments, without taking notice of the individuals Vv ho have urged 
diem," 

The modern qtiestion here mentioned, but happily unknown 
in many parts of the kingdom, is no other than this, whether it 
is the duty of a sinner to believe in Christ, or to jield any spi- 
ritual obedience to the calls of God's word ! and consequently, 
whether he is to be exhorted to any such obedience ! 

In the year 1798, several clergymen in the metropolis im- 
pressed with the serious aspect of our affairs as a nation, 
" agreed together to preach, in rotation, weekly lectures in 
each other's churches and chapels," bearing upon the subject : 
and in the following year, my father drew up at their request, 
and pubhshed with their approbation, '^ Observations on the 
Signs and Duties of the Present Times." These lectures were 
continued till 1802, when the peace of Amiens was concluded, 
and my father then closed them by preaching and printing a 
sermon on Psalm cxvi. 2 ; '^ Because he hath inclined his ear 
unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live." 
Besides these, he published fast sermons in 1793 and 1794, 
and a thanksgiving sermon in 1798 ; and sermons of the same 
description were included in the volume already noticed. 

One sermon may deserve to be more particularly mentioned, 
because of the occasion w^hich produced it. In the year 1800, 
was formed '^ The Society of Missions tij_ Africa aad 4lie East^ 
instituted by Members of the Established Church;" wiiich 
designation has been since exchanged for that of ^^ The Church^^ 
Missionary Society for Africa and the East." The prosperity 
to which this institution has attained ; the extent of its opera- 
tions^; and the divine blessings which has so evidently rested 
on its labours ; cause it now to draw the attention of the Chris- 
tian w^orjd, and dispose us to inquire, with feelings of interest, 



196 ri]\lSIIIx\G HIS COMMENTARr [CHAP. xi; 

into its origin. The honour of giving it birth belongs to my 
father in common with several dear friends, with whom he es- 
teemed it one of the chief blessings of his hfe to be associated. 
Among these, (to mention no surviving ones,) were the Rev. 
Messrs. Newton, Foster, Cecil, Venn, Goode, and that distin- 
guished layman, Mr. Henry Thornton. Mr. Venn, indeed, 
has been pronounced the father of the Society : and, if to have 
taken a very active and zealous part in its first formation ; to 
have had, perhaps, the principal share in organizing and mould- 
ing it into shape, and conducting it through certain delicate 
and difficult intricacies which it had to encounter at its outset ; 
entitles him to this appellation, it certainly belongs to him. 
But, if to have been one of the first and most urgent in press- 
ing upon his brethren the duty and necessity of forming some 
such institution, as well as among the most active in carrying the 
design into eftect, establishes a right to such a distinction, then 
must my father be allowed to share it with him. And, accord- 
ingly, he was thus commemorated in the Report of the Society, 
made at its last anniversary. The fact, I beheve, is this : the 
London Missionary Society, then recently formed, had attracted 
great public notice, and excited much discussion. Among 
other places, this was the case in a private society of clergy- 
men, meeting once a fortnight for friendly discussions ; and the 
ground which my father, whose mind had always been peculiar- 
ly alive to such subjects, there took, was this — that it was their 
bounden duty to attempt somewhat more than they had done^ 
either by joining the Missionary Society just mentioned, or, 
which would be much to be preferred, if practicable, by form- 
ing a new one among members of the establishment : and 
from these discussions sprang the Church Missionary Society. 
My father says of it, in a letter dated Oct. 29, 1800 : " I had a 
considerable share in setting this business in motion, and I 
should wish to try what can be done : but I am apt to fear, that 
like most of my plans, it will come to little." It is needless to 
say with what joy and gratitude he lived to see these fears dis- 
persed, and all his expectations exceeded. So long as he con- 
tinued in London, he acted as the secretary of tlie Society ; 
and, in the country, at a subsequent period, (as we shall here- 
after have occasion to relate,) he became the tutor of its mis- 
sionaries. At the anniversary, Whit-Tuesday, 1801, he was 
called upon to preach the first sermon before the Society ; 
which was published with the Report. 

I shall here insert the commemoration of his services above 
alluded to, as made at the anniversary meeting of the Society 
in 1821, a few weeks after his death. 



1792—1802.] TO LEAVING LONDON. 19'7 

" In recording the gratitude of the Society to its living and 
active friends, the committee are reminded of the departure to 
his eternal rest of one who may be justly denominated a father 
of the Society. The late Reverend Thomas Scott, with his 
once active coadjutors and brethren, Mr. Venn and Mr. Goode, 
and with the late Mr. Terrington, (a steady and assiduous mem- 
ber of the committee for the last eighteen years) — gone also to 
their reward — may be truly said, with others who are still 
spared to labour, to have laid, in faith and prayer, the founda- 
tion of that edifice which is now rising to view with augmented 
strength and usefulness every year. As the first preacher be- 
fore the Society, and for its first two years its secretary, our 
departed friend, — with that comprehensive knowledge of the 
heart and of Scripture, which stamped on his sentiments an 
early maturity, that for almost half a century grew more mel- 
low, but without withering or decay, — laid down for us those 
principles of action, stitnulated us by those motives, encouraged 
us by those promises, and suggested those practical measures, 
the truth and wisdom of which are receiving fresh evidence 
every returning year. When he could no longer take a per- 
sonal share in our deliberations and proceedings, he still ren- 
dered to the Society the most important aid, by charging him- 
self with the instruction of several of its missionaries. We 
have heard, in this place, from their own mouths, the most 
grateful testimony to his able instructions and his paternal care : 
and when his growing infirmities had disquahfied him for this 
labour of love, he ceased not, to his latest hours, to pour out 
fervent prayers for the gracious influences of the Holy Spirit, on 
all the labours both of this Society and of every other kindred 
institution, which, in these latter days, is made instrumental in 
accomplishing the purposes of divine mercy toward the world. 
He rests from Ms labours^ and his works follow Mmy 

Within the period of which we are treating, my father also 
projected some works which he never accomplished. One was 
the prophecies, and the evidence furnished by them for the di- 
vine inspiration of the different parts of Scripture. It appears 
that he first conceived the idea of such a work in 1793. In 
1796, he informed me that he had '^ in good earnest set about 
it." His plan was to make it, in some respects, more compre- 
hensive than Bishop Newton's Dissertations, and throughout 
more adapted to unlearned readers. He intended to publish 
it in small numbers, after the manner of his Essays ; and hoped 
by this means to obtain for it considerable circulation, and t© 
render it conducive to counteract the skepticism and infidelity 
of the times. But other more pressing engagements coming 
on, the design was first suspended, and then dropped, 

17* 



198 FINISHING HIS COMMENTARY, &LC. [CHAP. Xt, 

Another work, which I must much regret his not having exe- 
cuted, was of my own suggestion, on my entering into orders. 
It was to be a series of letters on the pastoral office, and its va- 
rious duties. He entered heartily into the design : and, being 
prevented from accomplishing it at that time, resumed it on his 
youngest son's ordination, but never found leisure to perform it. 

In 1796, as also in sonie subsequent years, the health of his 
family requiring them to spend some time at the sea-side, he 
was led, with advantage to his own health, to make numerous 
voyages in the packets between London and Margate : and this 
circumstance gives us occasion to present him to the reader in 
a new situation. His conduct amid the motley groupe on board 
of these vessels was strikingly characteristic, and produced a 
variety of interesting or amusing occurrences, of which I can 
furnish but a shght account. — He determined, if possible, to 
make the new scene, on which he was entering, an occasion of 
usefulness. Instead, therefore, of retiring within himself, in a 
sort of dignified silence, as a clergyman might feel inchned to 
do under such circumstances, he sought conversation. He ob- 
served and mquired into all that passed ; made himself ac- 
quainted with ail the parts of the vessel, and the process of 
managing it, the course steered, and the various objects to be 
noticed. 

He held himself ready to take advantage of all that occurj?ed. 
He rebuked immorality, and encountered skepticism and infi- 
delity (then, as at present, frequently avowed,) wherever they 
presented themselves. Thus he aimed to gain attention, and 
to find an opening for the instruction which he desired to con- 
vey. In general he succeeded. Frequently he entered into 
arguments against the corrupt principles of the day, both reli- 
gious and political ; on which occasions, by uniting, as he 
could readily do, much vivacity with his accustomed force, and 
always maintaining good temper, (for he determined that no- 
thing should affront him,) he generally drew a company around 
him, carried conviction to many bystanders, and often silenced 
his opponents. The discussion commonly terminated in a dis- 
tribution of tracts, chiefly his own publications, which he al- 
ways carried with him in travelling, for the purpose. His 
maxim was, that, if his books sold, he could afford such a dis- 
persion ; if they did not, he was only giving away waste paper. 
It may be added, that his conduct on board gained him much 
esteem among the sailors, who always welcomed him, and de- 
scribed him as ^^ the gentleman whom nothing could make an- 

Though, however, he would never be offended himself, even 
by scurrility and abuse, yet he sometimes deeply offended others, 



1792—1801.] LETTEES. 199 

by reproving their impiety, or exposing their attennpts to defend 
what was contrary to good morals. One instance it may be 
amusing to mention, as furnishing a specimen of the coarseness 
with which he was sometimes assailed. A man, who it appear- 
ed was a brewer in London, having for some time endeavoured, 
in his way, to support the cause of irreligion, and feeling him- 
self foiled by my father's arguments and animadversions, at 
length so far lost his temper, as to wish that he '^ had him, and 
a dozen more such parsons, at his disposal — he would boil them 
in his copper I" Such an ebullition had, of course, the effect 
of raising the voice of the whole company against its author ; 
who, in consequence, withdrew, and was seen no more during 
the remainder of the voyage. 

On other occasions, the result was very different ; and once, 
at least, at the general request of the company, he expounded 
and prayed with them in the cabin, while the vessel lay at an- 
chor. 

Few of us, I presume, would feel ourselves competent to 
adopt such a line of conduct, in a similar situation : but let us 
not, therefore, censure what is above our reach. In one who 
could worthily sustain this part, and was induced to do so by 
zeal for God and unfeigned love for the souls of men, I must 
pronounce it highly honourable. We may venture to say, also, 
that it is borne out by the highest examples. What other than 
this was the mode of teaching employed by the prince of the 
philosophers, by one of the chief of the apostles, and by him 
w^ho was greater, beyond comparison, than all sages, and even 
than all inspired apostles ?^ 



CHAPTER XII, 

LETTEES BELONGING TO THE PERIOD OF THE PEECEDIjNG 
CHAPTER. 

Having thus detailed such particulars as I have been able to 
collect relative to the time that my father continued in London 
after the completion of his Commentary, I shall now present 
the reader with various additional extracts of letters, illustrative 
of his ministerial situation, his views, and the state of his mind 
at that period. 

To his correspondent in Northumberland, the distant con- 

* See the Memorabilia of Socrates : the Acts of the Apostles, xvii. 16 — 
18, andxxvii. and the Gospels, passim. 



200 LETTERS. [chap. Xll. 

nexion by marriage, already repeatedly mentioned, he thus 
writes : 

" September 3, 1794. The years that you were more im- 
mediately acquainted with me, were certainly the most com- 
fortable, in respect of religion, that I ever experienced. I, as 
well as you, have since made many painful discoveries about 
my own heart, and have had far more acquaintance with the 
devices of Satan than I then had : yet hitherto the Lord hath 
helped; and the grand principles, which I then inculcated, 
rise in my estimation every year : nor can that, which really 

humbles us, eventually do us harm My situation as 

a minister is replete with difficulties, and T do not see the fruits 
of my labours as I used to do ; yet I trust I do not labour in 

vain We have a peaceable habitation ; and after all 

humiliating circumstances, are favoured with the intimate 
friendship of some of the most excellent of the earth. Nothing 
but sin and the effects of it could prevent our happiness : for, 
though I am often very poorly with the asthma, and other com- 
plaints, and my wife is far from healthy ; that would not mar our 
comfort, if we could live a more holy life. But happiness is 
reserved for heaven ; and hope, with a few earnests, must suf- 
fice on earth. We are patients in an hospital ; regimen, me- 
dicine, and cure, are at present chiefly to be attended to ; we 
shall shortly be discharged cured, and that will eternally make 
tip for all. — In the mean time, we must continue to live by faith 
in our crucified Redeemer, whose blood cleanseth from all sin. 
And, though, hke pardoned rebels, who have been lamed in re- 
bellion, our services manifest our sinfulness ; yet let us pray to 
be enabled to aim at adorning and recommending his gospel, 
and to declare his love, and the freedom of his service, to those 
around us, and those that shall come after us. — Pray for me and 
mine. — The Lord bless you and your's." 

''November 14, 1794. I trust the Lord will enable you to 
go forward with increasing earnestness and comfort, and that 
your united prayers, example, and endeavours, will be prosper- 
ed to the good of others belonging to you, who are yet far off*; 
and, especially, that your children will be brought up for God, 
and five to his glory. In these things we may all hope to bring 
forth fruit, that shall remain when we are gone to a better 
world. — But, alas ! we have so many things to conflict with, 
both in our own hearts, and around us, that we are often dis- 
couraged in our prayers and endeavours for others ; and Satan 
seems to stand by as an accuser, to represent that we are not 
proper persons to be made instruments of good to others, who 
are so sinful in all respects ourselves. Yet this is a mere tempta- 
tion : the Lord does all his work by instruments AVho are 



1792—1801.] LETTERS. ^ 201 

both unworthy and insufficient in themselves ; and they, whose 
effectual fermnt prayers have availed much^ most certainly 
had as humble an opinion of themselves and their services, as 
Ave can have ; yea, more so, in proportion to their superior ho- 
liness. — It is in this attention to our families, connexions, and 
circles, and by our prayers for the church of God, and for our 
country, that we should endeavour to serve God and our gene- 
ration in this turbulent and perilous time, when every thing ex- 
ternally dreadful is apprehended by many from outward ap- 
pearances, and when the spiritual mind will apprehend still 
greater evils from the atheism, infidelity, impiety, and enor- 
mous profligacy, which make such rapid progress on every side. 
But we should be careful to leave political disputes to worldly 
people : for engaging in them, on either side, discredits the 
gospel, and damps- the soul as to religion, and brings a curse 
into every society into which it finds admission." 

••^February 11, 1795. Those professors who seem not to 
feel such conflicts, and find no such difliculty in hving up to 
their rule, evidently aim low,* and do not measure their expe- 
riences and attainments by the scriptural standard. The bless- 
ing is pronounced by our Lord on those that hunger and thirst 
after righteousness ; but hunger and thirst imply the desire, 
the ardent desire, of what is not yet obtained ; and in heaven^ 
when such gracious desires shall be fully answered, we shall 
hunger no more^ and thirst no more. In the mean time, it is 
well to set our mark high, that we may press forward^ forget- 
ting the things that are behind^ and reaching forth to those 
that are before: and, as far as I can judge by your letter, 
this is the present frame of your spirit. When we feel our need 
of forgiveness in this and the other respect, and of grace to fill 
up our station properly to the honour of the gospel, we know^ 
what to pray for, and shall pray with our hearts : but, when 
our convictions are more general, and we are not so particular- 
ly acquainted with our wants, enemies, and evil propensities, 
our prayers will be more languid ; and words, good in general, 
but not feelingly the language of our hearts, will constitute our 
petitions. — For my part, I am not able, after twenty years en- 
deavouring after it, to rise a whit above a poor sinner, trusting 
in free mercy, through the atoning blood ; and a poor beggar, 
who might as easily live in health without food, as serve God 
one day without fresh supplies of wisdom, strength, and grace, 
sought, in earnest prayer, from the fulness of Christ. If this 
be neglected, 1 find all good decHnes, all evil revives : and am 
sensible that nothing which has passed would keep me from 
the vilest crimes, of which my wicked heart is capable, if this 
could be wholly suspended. Yet, I trust the Lord does put^ 



202 , LETTERS. [chap. XIX. 

and will put his fear into my hearty that I may not depart from 
hifn: and my view of final perseverance is this, that the 
Lord has engaged to keep me, (if, indeed, I am a believer,) 
empty, poor, hungering, praying, and living by faith on the 
fulness of Christ, till he bring me to glory : and then, all the 
painful experience I have had of my own weakness and sinful- 
ness, will tune my songs of praise to him that washed me from 
my sins in his own bloody through the countless ages of eterni- 
ty. — Yet God forbid that 1 should abuse the gospel ! I trust I 
only desire to live that 1 may serve the Lord, and recommend 
his gospel : and perfect holiness and obedience are the heaven 
I hope and long for. But the more I do in the Lord's service^ 
the greater debtor I am to his grace, for the wall, power, par- 
don, and acceptance : and the more I aim to do, the deeper 
sense I have of my need of the blood and righteousness of 
Christ, as my only title to the heavenly inheritance. 

'^ Perhaps this account of my feelings may show you, that 
your case is not singular ; and I feel myself peculiarly interest- 
ed in your concerns, and that of ^y our relatives ; to whom, with 
your minister, pray give my kind remembrance. — I feel the 
same difficulties, also, about my children, of which you speak : 
but I endeavour to use means and to commit them to the Lord, 
and thus to cast my care on Him. Yet even here I need for- 
giveness ; and am conscious, that neither my example, prayers, 
nor instructions, are what they should be. Thus boasting is 
excluded. I have no claim for my self or them, nor any plea, 
but God's mercy, and the encouraging promises of his word ; 
which, though general, give hope. And thus I proceed, and 
leave the matter with him. — Mr. Newton is tolerably well, per- 
haps the happiest man to be met with. But he grows old, and 
seems in all respects to break. — I hope I shall not forget to pray 
for you : I beg the prayers of you all, for I much need them. 
•—I remain, most sincerely, your affectionate friend, and well- 
wisher." 

Soon afler this period, my correspondence with him, first 
from Cambridge, and afterward from Hull, began. I only 
wish that what I insert from his letters may not appear to re- 
flect upon myself, for having no more profited by such excellent 
advice. 

The following extract from his first letter to me at college, 
may convey useful counsel to young persons, particularly to 
those in a similar situation : — 

" November 2, 1795. You have hitherto been kept greatly 
out of the way of worldly associates, and assure yourself you 
have lost nothing by it ; for the more they are known, the 
clearer must be the conviction to every reflecting mind, that 



1792—1801.] LETTERS. 203 

they can be of no advantage to a man, in any sense, without a 
tenfold greater disadvantage. Endeavour, therefore, to culti- 
vate a courteous, kind, and cheerful disposition and behaviour 
towards all sorts of persons ; avoiding moroseness, affectation, 
and singularity, in things indifferent ; but admit no one to your 
fanniharity, who does not seem to you, and to more experienced 
judges, to have the fear and love of God in his heart. Conci- 
liate by an amiable deportment such as are strangers to the 
'•^ ways of religion, in order to allure them up to your ground : ' 
' "BuFTa^ not a single ste^^^ upon their ground ; lest, iur 

^teaffof your drawing them out of the mire, they draw you in/ 
If you act consistently and prudently, and by a moderate at- 
tention to your studies, in subserviency to the one thing need- 
ful, and to future usefulness, secure a reputable standing in the 
' college ; the careless or vicious may affect to despise you., but 
j in their hearts they will respect you. I say a moderate appli- 
] cation ; for I apprehend that very great exertions are not only 
{ injurious to the health and spirits ; tend to form a man to ha- 
i bits that are unpleasant, or to a kind of oddity ; and exceed- 
* ingly interfere with the growth of grace and every holy affec- 
j tion in the soul ; but they counteract their own end ; blunt and 
( overstretch the mental powers ; and^ after surprising progress 
I for a time, incapacitate a person for making any progress at all. 
Ambition of distinction, more than love of knowledge, is the 
spur to this too eager course : but neither one nor the other 
should be your primum mobile ; but a desire to acquire that com- 
petency of useful knowledge, which may fit you for glorifying 
God, and serving your generation. This will also teach you 
To take care of your health and spirits ; to accustom yourself to 
corporeal as well as mental exertion ; (the want of which is se- 
verely felt by most of our ministers who are academical men ;) 
to cultivate that kind of behaviour, which may render you as 
acceptable, as truth and conscientiousness will let a man be in 
this world — the want of which is one of my principal disad- 
vantages ; and so to travel on at a sober rate, without over- 
pushing the horse at the beginning of the journey. — Excessive 
eagerness in any particular study has also this disadvantage, 
that it is apt to render a man rather learned than wise^ or even 
knowing ; as over-eating renders a man full, but does not nou- 
rish him. They who read too much, do not digest : they learn 
what others say, but they do not make it their own by reflec- 
tion, or distinguish between the precious and the vile. But mo- 
derate study, with frequent pauses for reflection, useful conver- 
sation, and exercise, adds more to real knowledge, and leaves 
time to apply it to practical uses. — You certainly should not 
waste time ; but stinting yourself to so much of thfe, or the 



204 LETTERS. [ciIAr. KIL 

Other every day may cramp you ; render your mind uncomfor- 
table ; and unfit you for the exercises of religion—without 
which nothing else will really prosper. — 1 would advise you, 
to write your own thoughts on subjects frequently ; and try to 
get the habit of doing it in Latin : it may be of use to you, 
some time, beyond what you now perceive. — But whatever you 
read or write, compare all with the Bible : study divinity as a 
Christian, and as one intended to be a minister ; and other 
things only in subordination to it : for this is your general^ and 
your particular calling too. — I pray the Lord to be your Guard* 
Guide, Father, and Comforter !" 

Having consulted him on the subject of joining some small 
companies of young men, who met in college for religious ex- 
ercises, on the Sunday evenings, I received the following an- 
swer : 

" November 13, 1795. There are two ways in which any 
practice may be deemed irregular ; and in each of them, con- 
cealment may perhaps be expedient. A practice (good in it- 
self, I mean) may be irregular, as contrary to the express rules 
of the society to which a man has voluntarily joined himself: 
or it may be irregular, as contrary to the customs," notions, or 
inclinations of such persons as have influence in that society ; 
and thus it may seem to oppose their authority, by opposing 
their private will. Thus clergymen often, in some particulars, 
act contrary to the wishes of their diocesan, and seem to oppose 
his authority ; when they do not act contrary to any of those 
laws, by which his authority is exercised and limited. — If au- 
thority be absolute, we ought not to enter willingly into any so- 
ciety, without determining to conform in all things to the will 
of the ruler ; if limited, we should purpose to conform to the 
extent of those limitations. I suppose the practice of your 
friends is not contrary to the express rules of the college, or of 
the university : and, as to the contrariety to the sentiments or 
inclinations of such persons as evidently do not favour vital 
godliness, I do not think that any real objection : though the 
express prohibition of one in authority, even if it were not 
strictly legal, would have great weight in my mind ; where the 
practice was not an essential duty. — As far as these two things, 
namely, an express rule and an express prohibition,, do not in- 
terfere, I think you are quite at liberty to use every means, that 
appears to you, and your pious friends and seniors, conducive 
to your mutual edification : and even an express rule, if grown 
obsolete, and disused by general consent, does not appear, in 
all cases, an exception, unless those in authority declare their 
purpose of exacting obedience to it. 

"If on such grounds as these you and your friends see the 



1792—1801.] LETTERS. 205 

way clear, and have no consciousness of acting contrary to ac- 
tual or implicit engagements, concealment seems to be no more 
than a matter deemed at present expedient ; as we do not think 
it right to tell every one when we retire for prayer, or when 
we give to the poor. Yet it appears to me advisable not to be 
too anxious about concealment ; lest that anxiety and precau- 
tion should appear, which might excite more suspicjon, or give 
more ground for censure, than the thing itself There is a 
modest, prudent secrecy ; and there is a timid jealous secrecy, 
which leads into temptation, and is quite needless in a good 
cause, and with a good conscience. 

" I do not quite understand whether your friends actually 
keep out of the reach of the Conventicle Act, or not. If no 
more thdiU five meet in one place, I can see no manner of ob- 
jection on the score of ecclesiastical irregularity. If they do 
meet in greater numbers, the matter demands more consideration. 
I look on that Act as a direct opposition of human authority 
to the word of God ; and I cannot deem myself bound, in 
foro conscientice. to obey it ; but, at the same time, expediency 
may often suggest obedience. It better becomes ministers, 
and others of some standing, to deviate from the injunctions of a 
bad law, and by their example to protest against it, and to ven- 
ture the consequences ; while their conduct in all other things 
has long shown them willing to obey in all things lawful ; than 
young men to set out with such disregard to any rules, as may 
lead others to think they mean to set up their own will as their 
rule. — Places and connexions also make a difference.... 

" A very strong reason, indeed, would be necessary to justify 
your declining the proposal of your friends, as it would tend to 
interrupt that cordiality, on which much of your comfort, and 
security against other connexions, depends. At the same time, 
I feel strongly the force of your other objection ; and would 
have you plead for being, for a time, a mere hearer. You may 
urge that you have heard me say, that the seniors in all such 
societies should chiefly take the lead ; as it has an unhappy 
effect on many young minds to conduct religious exercises too 
soon, or too often, in the presence of their superiors. . . . 
Whatever may be my engagements, I can have no more pleasant, 
perhaps no more useful employment, than what relates to your 
spiritual progress." 

The following account of the methods adopted by one, who 
had studied divine truth with so much success, will doubtless be 
interesting to the reader. 

"December 10, 1795. I know not what farther directions 
to give you respecting the manner of inquiring after truth, and 
seeking to have it more deeply impressed on the heart, and, as 



206 LETTERS. [chap. XH. 

it were, wrought into the judgment and affections, than are al- 
ready in print. T find it exceeding difficult to keep my atten- 
tion fixed, or to get my heart suitably affected, in reading and 
meditating upon truths, which have become obvious and fami- 
liar by daily study : but there are times when I find, that, while 
I try to muse on the subject, a fire^ as it were, kindles^ and 
contemplation terminates in adoring gratitude and admiring 
love. — In general, I think, I have found it advantageous some- 
times to read the Scriptures with such exactness, as to weigh 
every expression, and its connexions, as if I were about to 
preach on every verse ; and then to apply the result to my ov/n 
case, character, experience, and conduct, as if it had been di- 
rectly addressed to me — not as a new promise or revelation, 
but as a message containing warning, caution, reproof, exhor- 
tation, encouragement or direction, according to my previous 
or present state of mind, and my peculiar circumstances. In 
short, to make the passages into a kind of sermons, as if about 
to preach to others, and then to turn the whole apphcation on 
myself, as far as suited to my case ; as if another, who fully 
knew me, had been addressing me. — At other times, I have 
read a passage more generally, and then selected two or three 
of the most important observations from it, and endeavoured to 
employ my mind in meditation on them, and to consider how 
they bore on the state of my heart, or on my past life, or on 
those things which I heard or observed in the world or the 
church ; and to compare them with the variety of sentiment, 
experiences, conduct, or prominent characters, with which we 
become gradually more and more acquainted. — Thus I have 
endeavoured to read the Scriptures, and to use them as a touch- 
stone to distinguish the p7*ecious from the vile^ both at home 
and abroad. — At other times, having, perhaps, heard or read 
the opinions of different men on any disputed subject, I have, 
in my daily reading of the Scriptures, constantly kept those 
opinions in view, that I might at length forin my judgment on 
which side truth lay. In doing this, i have always aimed to 
keep my mind from the two extremes, on the one hand, of giv- 
ing up my own opinion, from a kind of false humility, and de- 
ference for men, without being previously convinced that I had 
been mistaken ; and, on the other hand, of assuming my opi- 
nion to be truth, so as to exclude light, especially if it came from 
an enemy, or a person not entitled to much deference. So that 
I have always aimed to be open to conviction ; to bring every 
man's probable opinion to the touchstone, and to give it a fair 
trial, if not tried before ; but not to receive it, without plainly 
perceiving its agreement with the Scripture, and, at the same 
time, to aim, that my heart might be suitable affected with the 



1792—1801.] LETTERS, 207 

conclusions of my understanding- — in which I have principally 
failed. But a spirit of continual prayer, mixed with reading, 
has been my principal help in all these things ; without which, 
either self- wisdom, or indolent dependence on human teaching, 
will surely prevail." 

'^ February 13, 1796. I think you are very right in culti- 
vating general knowledge. ... I trust, however, you will not neg- 
lect the peculiar studies of the place, so as not to appear with 
credit on proper occasions. The object in all your studies 
should be, neither celebrity, advantage, nor knowledge, for its 
owirTsalie ; but furniture to enable you to serve God and your 
generation ; and as much credit as may give weight to your 
endeavours of that kind. Any friend that has cultivated gene- 
ral luTowTecTge successfully, will give you hints on the best me« 
thod of doing it ; and gleaning &eems to me an important mat- 
ter. Learn from every body : be selfish in this respect : get 
all you can, not only from superior men, but from the most in- 
ferior. But be sure you compare all your real or supposed 
knowledge with the word of God. If real, it will elucidate, 
and be elucidated by it: if not, it will be detected and exposed 
by the touchstone. — At som.e time or other, I would advise you 
to studv v/ell the evidences of revelation ; not merely in a ge- 
neral way, but so as to be master of the subject. Perhaps it 
may be soon enough at present ; but it is a matter of great im- 
portance in this age especially. — x\bove all, cultivate personal 
religion. Let nothing be an excuse to your mind for being 
shght in that matter. Even useful labours for the good of 
others may be separated from diligence in the concerns of our 
own souls : but it is this which must bring a blessing on all else, 
and cause it to proceed with life and vi^^our." 

The next letter treats of an important point of theology, on 
which much indistinctness of conception appears frequently to 
prevail. 

'•• May 7, 1796. I have not above a sheet to write for the 
sermons, or rather the prayers ; and then I mean to rest a 
while ; that is from fagging as I have lately done.* My pa- 
rishioners, or clerk, (who is a plasterer,) have shut up my 
church in Bread-street, to beautifi/ : so that my little congrega- 
tion, which rather increased of late, will now be dispersed, and 
I shall have all to begin over again. All these things are 
against me! But all, I trust, will be for me. ... 1 do not think 
you need to have crossed out what you wrote about Edwards'* 
— President Edwards on the love of God ; that it is not mere- 

* The answer to Paine was completed in the same month with the volume 
of Sermons, 



208 LETTERS. [chap. XII. 

\y gratitude, but includes a delight in the holy excellency of 
the divine character and perfections. ^^ I firmly believe that 

and never read him, with sufficient attention and 

impartiality, fully to understand that part of his plan. He may 
express himself, at some times, too absolutely ; but if we leave 
out the glorious perfections of the true God, which are his love- 
liness^ or that especially for which he should be loved, how 
shall we distinguish him from idols ? I do not mean from 
images, but from imaginary deities, the creatures of men's fan- 
cy ; who think God suck an one as themselves^ and so worship 
and love their own invention and similitude, instead of that glo- 
rious Being, who makes himself known to us by immediate re- 
velation. Even in exercising gratitude to God, I must take in 
the consideration of his infinite greatness, holiness, and excel- 
lency, to form a proper estimate of the favours bestowed on so 
mean and vile a sinner ; or my gratitude will be no more than 
self-love reflected ; at least it will not be a pious and holy af- 
fection. — The whole plan of the gospel is intended to exhibit 
the loveliness of Jehovah, in all his harmonious excellencies : 
and shall we not include that loveliness in loving him ? I may 
be thankful to a man whose character I deem odious ; I may 
love the man who never showed me any kindness. But love 
of excellency, desire of union and conformity, gratitude, zeal, 
&c. all unite in the love of God, which both law and gospel re- 
quire of us. — To love God ' for his own sake' does not mean 
so loving him, as to have no regard to our own happiness at 
all ; but so as to seek our happiness in admiring, serving, and 
glorifying him ; in bearing his image, and enjoying his favour. 
If Edwards, speaks, at sometimes rather more strongly than 
this seems to imply, I am persuaded from the general tenor 
of his writings, that he does not mean any thing inconsistent 

with it. — I do not think that and meant to include 

love of the divine excellency, as well as gratitude for mercies 
bestowed upon us ; but merely to oppose an abstract notion, 
which they erroneously suppose the American divines to have 
advanced. At the same time, I think they and many others 
have imbibed, and do propagate, an unhappy prejudice against 
these writers ; and, for feaf of their system, they often speak 
inconsistently with themselves, and seem to be without fixed 
sentiments in this particular ; and countenance certain senti- 
ments, which, did they see their tendency, they would abhor. 
As to the text — We loved him because he first loved us — it can 
only mean, that we should never have loved God, had he not 
first loved us ; and, if we do now love him with genuine aflec- 
tion, it is full proof that we are the objects of his love ; this 
being the seal of his Spirit in our hearts. 



1792 1801.] LETTERS. 209 

" But I have written more than I can fairly afford. I would 
have you endeavour to avoid all prejudices, as much as possible ; 
and fairly, in humility and with prayer, to give different authors 
a careful examination : not too many at a time, or aS if it were 
necessary to make up your mind on every subject ; but deli- 
berately, and with much exercise of your own thoughts on the 
various views set before you." 

I would here just add, that, even if any person should be of 
opinion that the text quoted, (1 John iv. 19,) speaks more di- 
rectly of the love of gratitude, it would only prove, what 1 ap- 
prehend no one wishes to deny, that favours received form 07ie 
ground of that complex affection which is styled the love of 
God ; not that this is the onlt/ ground, or that no stress is to be 
laid on the love of moral esteem for the divine character. — 
One great reason for insisting on the principles of this letter is, 
that even a wicked man, taking for granted, on whatever 
grounds, (as it is to be feared many have done,) that he enjoys 
the favour of God, and is an heir of all the blessings of which 
he reads in the Scriptures, may, on that erroneous assumption, 
feel a flow of gratitude, which he may mistake for the love of 
God, and thus be confirmed in his delusion, while his heart is 
really at enmity with God ; and that this error is best guarded 
against, by urging the necessity of cordial reconciliation to the 
divine holiness, and delight in the perfections of the divine cha- 
racter. 

The following letter to a lady on a popular volume of hymns, 
arose out of his visits to Margate. It points out some import- 
ant distinctions, often not duly adverted to. 

" Mr. Hart, in his hymns, often represents faith as consisting 
in a belief that Christ died for me,, in particular ; which, being 
no proposition of Scripture, can only be directly known by a 
new revelation. This opens a door to delusion. Many are 
confident, whose lives prove their confidence to be presump- 
tion : and many are cast down for want of this confidence, 
concluding themselves unbelievers because they have it not, 
whose faith is notwithstanding proved to be living and saving, 
by its proper fruits. Faith is the belief of God's testimony, es- 
pecially concerning his Son, and eternal life for sinners, in him : 
it embraces this salvation, and gives up other confidences, and 
other objects, for the sake of it : and, when its effects on the 
judgment, desires, affections, 6lc. prove it to be genuine, the 
spirit of adoption enables a man to conclude according to 
Scripture, that Christ died for him in particular. But this is 
rather the maturity of faith and hope than essential to the na- 
ture of faith. Again, a person's doubting of his own state is 

generally condemned by Mr. H. as unbelief; whereas, it is of- 

18* 



210 LETTERS. [chap. %il. 

ten a genuine exercise of faith in God's word, under existing 
circumstances- We believe on God's testimony, that such and 
such characters have only a dead faith ; and we find reason to 
doubt, whether we are not such characters. This puts us on 
self-examination, prayer, &c. : and thus our doubts, which were 
very salutary, are removed. — The apostle stood in doubt of 
the Galatians : and surely it behooved them to doubt of them- 
selves. — Indeed, every caution against being deceived, in the 
whole Scripture, confutes this too popular sentiment ; which is 
only suited to bolster up the presumptuous, and crush the fee- 
ble and tempted.— To doubt the truth of God's word, or the 
pov/er and willingness of Christ to save all that truly come to 
him, is direct unbelief: but to doubt whether I come aright, 
and am a true believer, when many things in my experience and 
conduct seem inconsistent with the life of faith and grace, is 
the grand preservative against delusion, and incitement to 
watchfulness, self-examination, and circumspection. But Mr. 
H. does not attend to such distinctions.~The same is frequent- 
ly the case in respect to fear. Many passages indiscriminately 
condemn every kind of fear ; though the Scripture says. 
Blessed is he thatfearetk always ; Be not high-minded but fear. 
Yet in other places he speaks a different language. 

^'' Upon the whole, Mr. H. was a man of a warm heart, and 
of a lively imagination ; and sometimes he displayed a poetical 
genius : but for want of more accuracy of judgment, he has 
left passages, in some of his hymns, capable of a dangerous 
construction." 

Observations, similar to those of this letter, my father used 
pointedly to apply to an abuse, current in some quarters, of that 
fine passage in the conclusion of the book of Habakkuk, in 
which the prophet declares his confidence and joy in God, under 
the failure of all external sources of consolation. The abuse 
consists in what is called spiritualizing the language of the in- 
. spired writer, and thus employing it to cherish a confidence oi 
God's favour, when faith, and hope, and love, and every other 
grace, may have been long out of exercise, and perhaps no suf- 
ficient evidence exists that we ever were true Christians at all. 

In a letter dated December 29, 1796, my father regrets his 
want of skill in Hebrew, but adds, " It is too late for me to go 
to school in this sense." Yet much after this time he did attain 
a degree of critical proficiency in the language ; so that his re- 
marks were acknowledged to be among the most valuable that 
were received on the late Hebrew version of the New Testa- 
ment, while it was in progress. He subjoins some observa- 
tions on learning. — " Of all kinds of learning, none seems more 
important, than an accurate knowledge of the two languages 



1792—1801.) LETTEKS. 211 

which the Lord has honoured by giving in them his sacred ora- 
cles. As to mathematics, they doubtless have their use ; but 
a moderate proficiency in them is enough for your purpose. 
.... I must own, I feel in my best moments, that I had rather 
be the author of the Discourse on Repentance, than of Sir Isaac 
Newton's Principia: for the salvation of one soul gives joy in 
heaven, but we read not that angels notice philosophical disco- 
veries. Yet learning of every kind, if attended with humility, 
and subordinated to the one thing needful, may be very useful- 
ly employed in the service of the truth ; and some of Christ's 
servants should be learned men ; for others can seldom have 
access to the learned, or to those who would be thought such : 
and there are many important services, which learned men 
alone can perform." 

The following remarks on habits, and on the regulation of 
employments, appear to proceed on the soundest principles, 
and may be both instructive and encouraging to the conscien- 
tious mind. 

^^ March 15, 1797. Having been worked too hard at some 
times, I am at others ver}' much disposed to indulge a kind of 
sloth, and only to amuse myself with reading. This is, I know, 
in some measure necessary ; and yet it is so apt to grow upon 
me, till it become a kind of habit, and require much exertion to 
break through, when I am better able, that I am very much 
afraid of admitting it on any occasion. It is also inimical to 
my comfort ; for I always feel most disposed to dejection, and 
to view every think in the most discouraging light, when I am 
least active : so that on all accounts, when I am able, I must 
be employed about something, which is, at least, an attempt to 
■ exercise my ministry, and employ my talents to the glory of 
God and the good of others ; whether what I do ansvver any 
purpose or not. The state of public affairs, and the great stag- 
nation that has taken place in respect to the demand for books, 
has made me rather less earnest in preparing any thing for pub- 
lication : but I believe I must go on writing, whether I publish 
or not : or I shall be like those who give over business, and 
then grow low^-spirited, or get into mischief, for want of regu- 
lar employment. Few men know how to use leisure, either 
comfortably or profitably ; and a regular plan and succession 
of employments, provided it be so formed as to imply seeking 
Jirst the kingdom of God and his inghteousness^ according to 
the duty of our station, seems to be very important. To them 
who have their time at their own disposal, some care and con- 
sideration, with wisdom and grace, are requisite to form a plan : 
but, when formed, it should, in ordinary cases, be adhered to, so 
as to grow into a good hahit : for, though what we do habitual- 



212 LETTERS. [chap. XII. 

ly sometimes seems mechanical, and not clearly evidential of 
the right principle ; yet the very circumstance of its being ren- 
dered habitual by self-denying exertion, so that we cannot de- 
viate from it vi^ithout uneasiness, and consciousness of crimi- 
nahty, unless we have a good reason for doing so, is a presump- 
tion that it sprang from a right principle originally. For my 
part, I often feel as if the constant succession of duties in the 
family, asylum, hospital, chapel, study, and in visiting the sick, 
were as mechanical as if I were making tables and chairs : yet 
it is so contrary to the plan upon which I once was, that I think 
the forming of the habit was the effect of a new disposition and 
purpose of heart : and 1 now feel guilty and uneasy, if, without 
urgent cause, 1 deviate from it ; which sometimes keeps me go- 
ing, when 1 feel considerable reluctance : and yet those times 
often eventually prove most satisfactory. — We should, how- 
ever, be careful not to be too much attached to our own plans : 
we should not offer to prescribe them to others, whom they 
may not suit : or to censure those who have other plans, pro- 
vided they be not unscriptural : and, when an occasion of serv- 
ing others occurs, which deranges our plan, we should readily 
make it give way ; as a man would sit up all night to help to 
extinguish the flames, if his neighbour's house were on fire. 
When we appear reluctant to this, it arises from a too great 
fondness for our own humour. Tn this I have often detected 
myself: I could not bear my plan to be deranged, though it was 
plain the honour of God, and the benefit of souls, required it." 

In a letter of the same month, I find a slight notice of his last 
visit to his old and revered friend the Reverend Henry Venn, 
who died soon after at Clapham. Of this visit he ever retain- 
ed a delightful remembrance. He found Mr. V. at first in ra-- 
ther a torpid and vacant state : but at length, on the mention 
of the prospect before him, and the many spiritual children who 
had preceded him, and would welcome him to glory, all his an- 
cient fire rekindled, and he talked for some time in the most 
animated and heavenly strain. Indeed it w^as remarked^ that 
this aged saiat, when he seemed nearly expiring, was repeated- 
ly revived again by the thoughts of the happiness which ^waited 
him, and continued somewhat longer on earth through tTie jji- 
spiring prospect of the glory prepared for him in heaven. 

His elder sister, Mrs. Webster, had, in 1794, lost one oflieir 
two daughters, and w^as now threatened with the loss of the 
other. This drew from my father the following expressions of 
pious and affectionate sympathy. 

'^ April 20, 1797. It is a duty to use such means as we can 
to preserve life, and restore health : yet we all know that many 



1792—1801.] LETTERS. 213 

other things must be consulted. Physicians often recommend 
such means as their patients are unable to try : and, when this 
is the case, there is no ground of anxiety or regret ; for the 
abihty, the means, and the blessing, are all in the hand of God. 
— It is often a comfort to me, both in respect of myself and 
those dear to me, that the Saviour who was wounded for our 
transgressions^ and bruised for our iniquities^ has the keys of 
death and of the eternal world. If we can but say, Lord, he 
whom thou lovest is sicJc^ we may confidently commit the event 
to him. It may be very different for a time (as in the case of 
Lazarus,) from what we should choose, but, in the final issue, 
it will demonstrate his wisdom, as well as his faithfulness and 
love. The number of our trials, and pains, and days ; the cir- 
cumstances of our life and death ; are all with him. He can 
be touched with the feeling of our sorrows, and consults our 
feelings as far as wisdom will permit. But faithful are the 
tcounds of a friend : and he prefers our durable and eternal 
good, even to our present comfort ; thous^h he loill not leave his 
disciples comfortless^ or orphans^ or bereaved persons. But 
ichat he doeth we know not now ; hereafter we shall know. We 
do not even know the effect of trials on our own souls : we 
cannot say what we should have been without them ; we can- 
not estimate or measure our own progress or growth. The 
Lord's plan is very complex : but the truth is sure, All things 
work together for good to them that love God^ whom he hath 
called according to his purpose, . . .1 have no doubt of the event 
to you, that it will be mercy : 

The cioud you so much dread 
Is big with mercy, and will break 
In blessings on your head. 

Bat nature must feel, and I do most heartily pray God to spare 
your feelings, and to preserve your child, to be both a comfort 
to you and a blessing to others. But I am not confident that 
he will see good to answer these prayers, because they are, 
perhaps, the language of ignorance or mistake. A\\ I see, 
hear, or ^ee\,, convinces me, that nothing is worth living for, but 
to prepare for death and heaven, and to do some good in the 
world. If, therefore, the Lord has given her grace to choose 
the good part, to flee for refuge to Christ, and to yield herself 
to him in penitent faith and love, if He has any work for her to 
do in the world, she will certainly live to do it ; and, if not, de- 
parting hence to be with Christ will be a loss to others, but her 
richest gain.*' 



\/ 



^14 LETTERS. [chap. XII. 

The young woman died about three months afterward, as 
her sister had done before her, a most happy death. 

At this period, Mr. Wilberforce's ^^ Practical View" made 
its appearance : and I trust Imay, without offence in any quar- 
ter, allow the public to observe the impression which that work 
liaade upon my father's mind. .-....-^^— ^ ^__^^-._ 

" April 26, 1797. It is a most noble and manly stand for 
the Gospel ; full of good sense, and most useful observations 
on subjects quite out of our line ; and in all respects fitted for 
usefulness: and coming from such a man, it will probably be 
read by many thou^^nds, who can by no means be brought to 
attend either to our preaching or writings. Taken in all its 
probable effects, I do sincerely think such a bold stand for vital 
Christianity has not been made in my memory. He has come 
out beyond all my expectations. He testifies of the noble, and 
amiable, and honourable, that their works are evil ; and he 
proves his testimony beyond all denial. He gives exactly the 
practical view of the tendency of evangelical principles, for 
which I contend ; only he seems afraid of Calvinism, and is not 
very systematical : perhaps it is so much the better. — It seems, 
likewise, a book suited to reprove and correct some timid 
fl^iends, who are at least half afraid of the Gospel, being far 
more prudent than the apostles were ; or we should never have 
been able to spell out Christian truths from their waitings. 
But it is especially calculated to show those their mistake, who 
preach evangelical doctrines, without a due exhibition of their 
practical effects. I pray God to do much good by it ! and I 
cannot but hope that I shall get much good from it, both as a 
preacher, and a Christian." 

Indeed, of all the high and deserved compliments which 
have been paid to this work, scarcely any, it has appeared to 
me, have more strongly spoken its worth, than the manner in 
which my father always regarded it. In general, f was tempted 
to think that he formed rather too low an estimate of the books 
which came before him, especially those connected with his 
own profession : which arose, no doubt, from the depth of 
thought which he had himself bestowed upon the subjects of 
them. But the sentiments of this work appeared to him so 
just, and many parts of it, as he expresses it, '^ so much out of 
our" accustonjed " line," that he recurred to it again and again, . 
and never seemed weary of the perusal. 

From a letter full of wise, animating, and exciting counsel, 
but too personal to be inserted more at large, I give the follow- 
ing extracts. 

"November 28, 1797. Upon the whole, if I have many 
difficulties and discouragements in one way, they are counter- 



1792—1801.] LETTERS. 215 

balanced in another ; and I have every reason to think, that 
the Lord will make my poor labours from the press, considera- 
bly, and, I hope, durably useful. My answer to Paine has been 
reprinted, and, I am told, is approved in America. The 'Force 
of Truth' has also been reprinted tTiere. . . I mention this to 
show you, that the Lord will make use of honest, though mean, 
endeavours to promote his cause ; and that he mixes encou- 
ragements with humihating dispensations, in his dealings with 

those who trust in him The Lord puts his treasure info 

earthen vessels : such as men despise, and such as think meanly 
of themselves. He makes little use of those attamments and 
accomphshments which men so much admire, and which many 

think absolutely essential to the ministrv Consider well 

the worth of immortal souls : the millions, all over the world, 
who are perishing for lack of knorvledge ; the awful delusions 
which prevail, even in this land : the few, comparatively, of 
even honest and faithful preachers ; how the Lord is taking 
many of them from us ; what a determined combination is 
every where made against Christianity ; and what an honour it 
will at last be found, to have been decidedly on the Lord's 
part — an instrument of defeating the gates of hell — of sowing 
seed for that harvest which he will shortly gather — as well as 
of rescuing, though it be but a few. souls from eternal destruc- 
tion, to be your crown of rejoicing in the presence of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, at his coming. With all my discouragements and 
sinful despondency, in my better moments I can think ot no 
w^ork worth doing, compared with this. Had 1 a thousand 
lives, I would w illingly spend them in it ; and had I as many 
sons, I should gladly devote them to it. — I have little doubt 
that you will see your way clear before the time comes : and 
though a country situation may probably be most eligible, yet I 
trust you will say. Here am /, Lord, send me where thou wilt. 
=^Isaiah vi. 8.). . . 

'"^ FrdLy'mg frequently helps to pray ferveritli/, . . 

■-' Watch against heartlessness as against the grossest crime : 
for it is very dishonourable to the mercy and grace of the Gos- 
pel, and to his name, who commands his servants to rejoice in 
hope : and a very great hinderance to active endeavours to glo- 
rify him Strive against reserve Beware lest pride 

and fastidiousness, and the fear of not acquitting yourself cre- 
ditably, influence you to be silent, where you should speak : 
for pride may work this way, as well as in forwardness and 
self-sufficiency. Nature always needs counteracting and cor- 
recting ; and whatever endowment is. or may be necessary to 
the service intended for us, we should long before be asking it 
of the Lord in daily prayer, and using means to obtain it. and 



216 LETTERS. [chap. XII. 

to overcome impediments : and, though we may for a long time 
seem unsuccessful, we shall find, at length, that it has not been 
in vain. 

" I am sorry to hear of Mr. 's death, and of : 

but Mr. Milner's death especially aifects me, and bids me re- 
double my diligence while the day lasts." 

With Mr. Milner of Hull, my father had no personal acquaint- 
ance. That he had the highest esteem for his character, 1 need 
not say. His death took place in the same month in which this 
letter was written, in the fifty-fourth year of his age. 

A passage in the latter part of this letter reminds me of a 
beautiful sentence of Plato, Archbishop of Moscow, who enu- 
merates among the *•' external signs," by which our " internal 
devotion" should be indicated, "'joy of countenance, produced 
by a glad heart, sensible of the infinite goodness of God." 

A letter, dated February 14, 1798, gives an account of a long 
conversation with the late Dean of Carlisle, (Dr. Milner,) in 
which " a variety of questions, both concerning doctrines, ex- 
perience, and the state of religion in town," were discussed. 
My father says, '•^ He allowed nearly all my sentiments as true 
and important ; but I could hardly persuade him that any men 
who were not totally and evidently bad characters, would hold 
such notions, and make such abuses of the gospel, as I too well 
know many do." — J insert this sentence, because I am aware 
that persons at a distance from the scene in which my father 
lived, and strangers to many things which came under his ob- 
servation, have been ready to judge him unduly apprehensive of 
antinornian abuses of the gospel. 

The remainder of the letter shows the '^ godly jealousy" with 
which he looked upon any degree of success, however slight, 
obtained in the university ; and is one among a thousand proofs, 
how far he v/as from viewing things with the eyes of ^^ a man 
of this world." "I rejoice with trembling; and would sug- 
gest a cautious, jealous watchfulness. I know how prone the 
heart is to be puffed up with any kind of distinction, or suppo- 
sed advance, or comparative knowledge. I feel it to this hour, 
after all my mortifications ; and I cannot do without them. I 
am aware how bewitching those studies must appear to a youth- 
ful mind in your situation — among so many who judge by un- 
scriptural rules — which procure applause, distinction, or the 
prospect of secular advantage ; and what a strong temptation 
there is, to devote more time to them, than to others of far more 
importance, which are of small repute in the world, but derive 
an unspeakable value from their enabling the possessor, though 
poor^ to make many rich^ and having nothings yet to possess 
all things, I own I have a higher aim for you, than any emi- 



1792 1801.] LETTERS. 217 

nence in an university, or any acquirements of human learning 
could bestow : and I hope you have, and will have the same for 
yourself" 

I may be permitted to say, that I derive much pleasure in 
transcribing such extracts, from the hope, that they may be the 
means of communicating a portion of the writer's spirit to 
young men preparing for the sacred office ; and especially to 
such as may be more in danger of academical distinction, than 
the person was, to whom they were originally addressed. 

A proposal made to place a young woman, distantly con- 
nected with the family, under his care, because of the impru* 
dent marriage of her sister, gave occasion to his making some 
remarks on education, and on the conduct of parents. 

'^ July 14, 1798. It appears to me, that, in such cases, (as 
that of the parent,) it behooves us to examine ourselves, in order 
to discover whether the Lord is not contending toith us for 
some neglect of our proper duty, while others are left to violate 
their duty to us : for, without this be discovered and confessed 
before the Lord in humble repentance, we cannot reasonably 
expect to enjoy comfort under affliction, to have it sanctified, 
or to find a happy event to it. The principles and plan of mo- 
dern education are such, and I have so long made my obser- 
vations on the effect of them, that I cannot but suspect the mo- 
ther has, in some degree, been guilty of Eli's fault ; which 
brings sore calamities on families, and especially on the fami- 
lies of religious people. Self-will is natural to us ; and, if in- 
dulged, it gathers strength with our years, and at length, will 
brook no control. Children, like young colts, must be broken 
in ; and the sooner the better. The child that has early been 
constrained to give up its will to that of a parent, will, without 
severity, be trained to a habit of submission^ which will not 
easily be broken through when he is grown up.; even though 
he want religion effectually to produce submission to God. But 
the reverse is modern education, and especially among religious 
people." 

'' I own," he says, '' I am grievously afraid of young people 
who have been indulged when children." And subsequently, 
'• At boarding schools they are, in general, much more of fine 
ladies than I should wish any body about me to be. On this 
account, I have resolutely refused many friendly, arid apparent- 
jy advantageous offers from the teachers of schools, respecting 
my daughter, who has never left home." 

The young person in question, being soon after left an or- 
phan, was received into his family, and died there about half a 
year afterward ; being, I trust, to be added to the number of 

19 



218 LETTERS. [OIIAP. XII' 

those who have received the most important benefit under his 
roof. 

His nephew having, at this period, proposed to enter into 
the church, he points out what he conceives to be the best plan 
to be adopted, and says, ''- If you can make up your mind to it, 
I consider such a delayed course as no objection, for J think 
the nearer thirty the better, before a man be engaged in such 
a work as that of the ministry." A year afterward, proposing 
to receive him under his own tuition, he writes to him : — 

'-'- December 19, 1799. I must soon decrease and be gone. 
I have borne a faithful, but rude and feeble, testimony ; my de- 
sire is to be instrumental in bringing forward some young men, 
who may carry on the same work to better advantage when I 
am removed : for a tendency to antinomianism is the bane of 
evangehcal preaching in this day ; both by lowering Christiani- 
ty among those within, deceiving professors, and disgracing 
the common cause. ... I have most deep and heartfelt con- 
viction of the truth and importance oi those peculiarities^ which 
have hitherto made me unpopular ; and I wish to communicate 
and perpetuate them by young persons who may have advan- 
tages that 1 have not." 

The last letter which 1 shall produce, belonging to this pe- 
riod, will be esteemed one of no common interest. It will it- 
self explain the circumstances under which it was written. 

^' Chapel street, November 22, 1801. ])(3ar John, I under- 
stand that you have been informed by Mr. Pratt's letters to Mr. 
Dikes, that I am recovering from my late sickness ; and this 
may kenp you and dear Frances from anxiety on my account : 
yet I thought a few lines from me would be welcome on the 
occasion, and have, therefore, allotted a part of this evening, 
(Sunday,) to the purpose. 

" During almost sixteen years' continuance in London, 
though often greatly indisi)osed, I have never once before been 
prevented officiating on the Sunday : but I have now done no- 
thing since Wednesday se'nnight, in the evening. I have not 
been able even to pray in the family till last night, and then 
with great difficulty. In the former part of life, I had many 
more violent and long-continued fevers : but I have not been 
so ill, since I had a nervous fever in Sliropshire, in 1783 ; and, 
as far as I can recollect, I never had so violent an attack of the 
asthma before. For many hours of two successive nights, it 
was all but absolute suffocation ; and the sense and dread of 
that were continually present to my mind. Yet, bless the 
Lord, I was not left either to murmur or despond. I had very 
serious apprehensions of immediate death ; though I said no- 
thing to those around me : and all my cares, plans, hopes, (as 



1792—1801.] LETTERS. 219 

to this world,) and every thing, except my wife and children, 
seemed quite out of sight. I had not any sensible comfort ; 
yet I thought of dying, without emotion : though the idea of 
dying by suffocation seemed formidable. I felt the grand con- 
cern to be s ife ; and was willing to leave all below, to have 
done with suffering, sin, and temptation. I did not feel much 
of w^hat the apostle mentions, of desiriivg to he with Christ; 
and I was convinced, for that very reason, that my Christianity 
was of a small growth : yet I trusted that it was genuine. I 
tried to commit all I loved, and all I had laboured to effect, into 
the Lord's hands : and I thought of recovering, as a sailor, just 
about to enter harbour, would of being ordered out to sea again. 
Yet I was willing, if the Lord saw good.- — This was about the 
state of my mind. I could confusedly recollect very many 
things to be humbled for, and ashamed of; but nothing thai 
impeached the sincerity of my professed faith in Christ, and 
love to him : and, though conscious of very many faults and 
imperfections in my ministry, I was also conscious, that I had 
honestly sought to glorify God, and save souls, in preference to 
all worldly interests. My hope was that of a sinner, through- 
out saved by grace : yet I was satisfied, that the aim of my 
heart, and the tenour of my conduct, since I professed the gos- 
pel, evidenced that I had built on the sole foundation by a liv- 
ing faith. — When I die, it is not to be expected, that ! should 
be able to declare my views and experiences ; and, therefore, 1 
commit these things to paper, as Vv'hat passed in my mind, when 
I had serious apprehensions of dying. 

" It pleased God, however, at length to bless the means. 
and repeated emetics, bhsters, &c. abated the paroxysm : yet 
the lungs were left in such a state, and I had so strong a fever, 
that, for almost ten days, I tasted neither animal food, nor fer- 
mented liquor, except a spoonful of wine two or three times, by 
way of trial, which always disagreed with me. So that alto- 
gether, I have been reduced very low : but, thank God, the 
fever yielded to medicine ; and I have now nothing remaining 
of my disorder, but the languor, and a sort of irritable state of 
the lungs, which chiefly troubles me by preventing me from 
sleeping. In other respects, I am amazingly recovered, and 
relish my food better than I have done for months past. I 
am, however, advancing in years ; and this attack will proba- 
bly have some effect upon my plans, so far as to make me back- 
ward to undertake all that labour, which I had some thoughts 
of. But wherever, or how long, or in whatever way, I may be 
employed, I never felt so deeply convinced in my life, that he- 
ing employed, as a minister, is the only thing worth living for. 
The vanity of all worldly possessions, distinctions, connexions. 



220 LETTERS. [chap. Xl/. 

and enjoyments, never so forcibly impressed my mind, as on 
this occasion. The folly of shrinking from that hardship or 
suffering which the frown or scorn of men can inflict on us, for 
faithfulness, appeared extreme ; when I felt how easily God 
could inflict far sharper sufferings, if he saw good. The reali- 
ty and importance of eternal things shone on the scenes around 
me ; so that the crowds of noble and affluent sinners, following 
the steps of the rich man in the gospel, appeared the most mi- 
serable of wretches. Transient pain taught me emphatically 
the value of deliverance from eternal misery ; and endeared 
the love of the deliverer, who voluntarily endured such pain 
and agony for us vile sinners. The evil of sin, the happiness 
of the poorest true Christian, and the little consequence of the 
smoothness or ruggedness of the path, provided we come to 
heaven at last ; these things, and others connected with them, 
have not, for many years at least, so impressed my mind. — 
The Friday evening before \ was taken ill, I preached on the 
text, Follow holiness^ without which no man shall see the Lord. 
But I did not prof)erly dwell on the Lord's method of making 
\x^ partakers of his holiness : so he has since preached to me on 
the subject. And as 1 now think little of the distress and pain 
attending the remedies used for my body, (the pain is all past,) 
because I hope I shall have the subsequent benefit of better 
health ; how little should I think of the sharpest sufferings I 
can here go through, if the health of my soul be forwarded, 
and, at length, perfected, by means of them : or rather, how 
ought I to bless and thank God for them all. — Pray for me, 
that I may not lose these impressions ; but, if spared, may live, 
and preach, and pray, and write, in a manner, somewhat less 
unsuitable to the vastly important services I am engaged in : 
for who can he sufficient for these things ? — I rejoiced, and 
blessed God, when 1 recollected that he had put you into this 
high office of the ministry : () may he preserve you from the 
snares, and smiles, and frowns of the world ; from the fascina- 
tions and delusions, from the lukewarmness, and evangelical 
formality, and attachment to secular interests, which are sanc- 
tioned too much in the church ! May you be a wiser, holier, 
more faithful, and more useful minister, than ever I have 
been ! — O keep the concluding scene in view every step of the 
way ; and judge of every thing by it. The evils I have pro- 
tested against in health, appeared to me far, far more pernicious, 
as I lay gasping for breath, than before : and I seem to rejoico 
in the hope of entering farther protests against them. — But I 
must stop my pen, or I shall hurt myself You will excuse the 
overflowings of my heart at this time : it never was more full 



|7y!<^ — IbUl.J LETTEKS. TTT" 

of love for you My love and blessing to my daughter. God 

bless and prosper you, in the best sense ! — Your truly affection- 
ate father, Thomas Scott." 

An addition to the letter by another hand, made the next 
morning, observes, '•'• He was yesterday, (the first time be went 
down stairs,) enabled to go to chapel, and that without any in- 
jury. He is now at work, as usual, in the study !" 

On this very striking and affecting letter I shall venture to 
offer a few remarks. 

1. It can hardly be necessary to call the reader's attention 
to the deep and vivid impressions, made on the writer's mind, 
of ^^ the reality and importance of eternal things ;" of ^^ the 
vanity of all worldly possessions, distinctions, connexions, and 
enjoyments ;" of ^' the happiness of the poorest true Chris- 
tian;" of the extreme misery of '^ the crowds of noble and af- 
fluent sinners, following the steps of the rich man in the gos« 
pel ;" of the ^^ little consequence of the smoothness or rugged- 
ness of the path, provided we come to heaven at last;" of the 
welcome with which we should receive '•'• ihe sharpest suffer- 
ings, we can go through here, if the health of our souls may be 
forwarded, and, at length, perfected by means of them." 

2. The views which he takes of the work of the ministry, 
and of ^^ the folly of shrinking from that hardship or suffering, 
which the frown or scorn of men can inflict on us for faithful- 
ness ;" the prayer, ^^ O may he preserve you, (as a minister, 
especially,) from the snares, and smiles, and frowns of the 
world, from the fascinations and delusions, from the lukewarm- 
ness, and evangelical formality, and attachment to secular in- 
terests, which are sanctioned too much in the church !" cannot 
fail to strike every mind. — The light, also, in which, apparently 
on a dying bed, he now saw the specialities^ if I may so call 
them, of his doctrine and ministry, more particularly as opposed 
to a loose and worldly profession of the gospel, and the abuse 
of evangelical truths, will not pass unnoticed. 

3. But particularly we have here presented, under these in- 
teresting circumstances, and with immediate reference to his 
own case, a distinct, though concise, view of some of his senti- 
ments, which have been often misapprehended and misrepre- 
sented. " I could confusedly recollect very many things to be 
humbled for, and ashamed of: but nothing that impeached the 
sincerity of my prof essed faith in Christy and love to him. My 
hope was that of a sinner, throughout saved by grace : yet I 
was satisfied, that the aim of my heart, and the tenour of my 
conduct, since I professed the gospel, evidenced that I had 
built on the soli: foundation by a living faith,' ^ — Is there any 

19^ 



thing in this which is justly chargeable with self-righteousness^ 
or which even approaches to that error ? The utmost that it 
amounts to is, that rejoicing in the testimony of his conscience, 
that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, 
but by the grace of God, he had had his conversation in the 
world, which the same apostle does not scruple to express, 
who teaches us to ^^ rejoice in Christ Jesus" only, and exclaims, 
^' God forbid that I should glory ^ save in the cross of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." — Christ is ^'' the sole foundation:" "by 
faith" alone we '•'' build" upon him : but the fruits of faith are 
to be adduced, both now, and at the day of judgment, as " evi» 
dence" that our professed faith is "living," and not dead. 
This is the whole doctrine of evidences : yet many excellent 
persons cannot distinguish between adducing the fruits of faith 
as a foundation on which to rest for acceptance with God, and 
adducing them merely as a proof that we are builded upon 
Christ alone by a living faith : and thus they unintentionally 
give countenance to those w^ho decry all appeal to evidences, 
because, it is to be feared, they have no satisfactory evidences 
to appeal to, in support of their own pretensions to the Chris- 
tian state and character. 

We ought, also, under the present head, to remark the per- 
fect sobriety and soundness of the writer's method of proceed- 
ing, as to the question of his own state and prospects, even in 
the condition of extreme exhaustion and suffering which he de- 
scribes. He is able " to give to every one that asketh of him 
areasan^^^ which cannot be contravened, " of the hope that is 
in him." Is there, it may be confidently demanded, any thing 
fanatical, fanciful, or in any way contrary to ^^ a sound mind," 
in what we are viewing of the writer's proceedings upon a sup- 
posed dying bed ? 

4. But, lastly, it may, perhaps, be little satisfactory to some 
persons, that there was no more of joy and '-'• sensible comfort," 
in the writer's '^ views and experiences, when he had serious 
apprehensions of dying :" and I the rather advert to this sub- 
ject, because the case w^as pretty much the same, as he rathe/ 
seems to anticipate that it might be, when death actually ap- 
proached. But let us observe what he says " about the state of 
his mind" in this respect. 

" For many hours of two successive nights, it was all but ab- 
solute suffocation, and the sense and dread of that was conti- 
nually present to my mind : yet, bless the Lord, I was not left 
either to murmur or despond. I had very serious apprehen- 
sions of immediate death I had not any sensible comfort. 

Yet I thought of dying without emotion I' felt the 

grand concern to be safe ; and was willing to leave all below, 



18U1 — 181J.J SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 223 

to have done with suffering, sin, and temptation I tried 

to commit all I loved, and all I had laboured to effect, into the 
Lord's hands : and I thought of recovering, as a sailor, just 
about to enter harbour, w<juld of being ordered out to sea again. 
Yet, I was willing if the Lord saw good." But he adds, '^ I 
did not feel much of what the Apostle mentions of desiring to 
be with Christ: and I was convinced, for that very reason, that 
• my Christianity was of a small growth, though I trusted it was 
genuine :" a sentence which produces an impression like that 
felt by the late distinguished Dean of Carlisle, when compa- 
ring the exalted Christian state of his dying brother with the 
humihty of his language, he exclaims, '-'- So this is the man 
who, when he is asked directly about his prospects in eternity, 
can give no other answer than, / can't say much!''' — Surely 
in such patience, such submission, such trust, even in the ab- 
sence of '-'- sensible comfort ;" in such willingness, as the Lord 
should see good, either to '-'' enter the harbour" of death, or to 
be "' ordered out to sea again," on the stormy voyage of Hfe : — 
surely there is in all this much of the highest attainments of 
Christianity. '' I can't say much," repHed the dying Milner 
to the questions which were put to him : '-^ I rely on the pro- 
mises for strength in the time of need There was a time 

when I should have been very unhappy to have had so little of 
sensible comfort; but I have seen reason to believe that one of 
the most acceptable exercises of true Christian faith consists in 
patiently waiting. God's time, and in relying confidently on the 
written word. For many years, I have been endeavouring to 
live from day to day as a pensioner on God's bounty. I learn 
to trust him, and he sends the manna without fail." 

From the period of the illness here described, my father gave 
up his Sunday morning lecture at Lothbury. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

FKOM HIS ACCEPTING THE LIVING AT ASTON SA^JFORD ; TO THE 
FINAL DISPOSAL OF HIS COMMENTARY. 

^^ I SHALL now," my father proceeds, '' draw this account to 
a conclusion, as mast of the subsequent events of my life are 
nearly as well known to my family as to myself 

" It would be of little use or interest to detail my trials and 
■ difficulties at the Lock. At length, however, the time arrived, 
when I was satisfied in my conscience that it was my duty to 
recede. I always questioned whether I acted properly in co- 
ming tliither, which often added to my depression amidst my 



224 ACCEPTING ASTON TO THE [CHAP. XHi; 

Other distresses : but I never thought, till this time, that I was 
allowed to quit my post. Indeed I had no opening, and used 
very often most seriously and dolefully to think, that, if com- 
pelled to leave it, I could not form the idea of any station, that 
I was likely to attain, for which I was at all suited, and in which 
I could conscientiously engage. Of a hving I had no hope : 
the post of a curate could, in few situations, be compatible 
with my views and my unpopularity : a chapel would not 
clear expenses : and into an irregular engagement I was not 
disposed to enter. 

^^ But the affairs at the Lock seemed at least to draw to a 
crisis. — When the Rev. Martin Madan, who had alone borne 
the title of chaplain, died, Mr. De Coetlogon and myself were 
appointed chaplains, instead of evening and morning preach- 
ers ; but without any other alteration than that of the name. 
But various things concurred in convinpcing me, that I ought not 
to continue in this joint-chaplainship with one, whom I could 
not approve : and at length 1 avowed my determination to that 
purport. This produced various effepts and plans : and it was 
for some time doubtful, whether my removal, or my appoint- 
ment as sole chaplain, would be the consequence. In this un- 
settled state of affairs, the Hving of Aston Sanford became 
vacant by the death of the rector, Mr Brodbelt ; and, as it was 
in the gift of John Barber, Esq. by virtue of his marriage with 
Miss Gines, who had been under my care at Olney, I apphed 
for it. I never before had a^ked preferment of any one, and 
never in my life had any offered to me : but on this occasion I 
stated my circumstances and views to Mrs. Barber, and recei- 
ved an answer peculiarly gratifying to me. After some delibe- 
ration, I considered the business as settled : but a demur sub- 
sequently arose, under the idea that Mrs. B.'s mother had made 
a will, and bequeathed Aston to some other person. No will 
had before been noticed, but one was now found, which was 
not legally authenticated, but yet clearly showed, that she desi- 
red the living to be given to the Rev. Richard Johnson, who 
had been for many years chaplain to the colony at New South 
Wales, and who had just returned to England, unprovided for. 
On this, I at once renounced all my pretensions in his favour ; 
though not, I own, without feelings of regret. For two months 
I seldom thought about it, except when distressed with some 
vexation. But one morning Mr. Johnson called on me, and, 
when I congratulated him on his presentation to Aston, he, to 
my surprise, replied, that, as he had some ground of claim on 
government for a provision, he had been advised not to accept 
the living, and had come to say, that he wished me to have it. 

'^ The rest was soon settled in due order, and I was insti- 



1801 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF IIIS BIBLE. 225 

tuted at Buckden, July 22, 1801. I had been led to think, 
that the income was httle more than 1001. a year, without a 
house ; and that it could not easily be improved. But, on 
taking possession, I found that my predecessor had advanced 
the rent to 180Z. free of all parish taxes ; and that the tenant 
was willing to confirm this agreement to me. This business, 
therefore, was already arranged to my hands, though Mr. Brod- 
belt, had not lived to receive any benefit from the arrangement 
himself"^ But there was no habitable parsonage : and the 
circumstances were such, that 1 could not avoid, either building, 
or leave my family exposed to serious difficulties about dilapi- 
dations, w4ien I should be removed. This left me, for some 
time after institution, in hesitation whether I should retain the 
living or not. 

^' In the meantime, it was determined cit the Lock, that 
there should be only one chaplain ; and, to preserve the appear- 
ance of impartiality, both chaplains were discharged, but with 
the allow^ance to become candidates for the vacant office. Such 
an arrangement was by no means pleasing to me ; and I de- 
termined to accede to the dismission, and goto my living. But 
this was not what had been purposed by those who formed, or 
concurred in the plan ; and it would have enabled the party, 
which they meant to exclude, completely to triumph. I was, 
therefore, earnestly entreated to become a candidate, and at 
length consented to do so ; and no other candidate appearing, 
was chosen sole chaplain, March 25, 1802, though not with- 
out many efforts and stratagems to prevent it. At this period 
I resigned my lectureship in Bread-street.— I had now 1101. a 
year from the chapel and the Asylum ; but v/ithout a house. 
I had also something coming in from my living. 

''' I now, however, became more doubtful than before, whe- 
ther I should give up my living, or determine to go and reside 
upon it. I knew that the bishop would not long connive at 
non-residence ; and that it would be impracticable to hold the 
Lock, if I resided any Considerable part of my time in the 
country. In the event, I came to the resolution of retiring to 
my living, induced by the following reasons : 

'M.I thought, that if a chaplain could be found, wholly un- 
connected with the conflicting parties, which had so long strug- 
gled for victory at the Lock, and who inherited none of those 
prejudices which, I knew must attach to me, peace and amity 
might succeed ; and the important object of the united charities, 

* When the sum expended by my father in the erection of a parsonage^ 
house at Aston is taken into the account, it will be found that the living could 
iicver be reckoned worth a clear hundred pounds a year to him. 



226 ACCEPTING ASTON TO THE [CHAP. XIII. 

together with the interests of true religion in the chapel, might 
be pursued with a far better prospect of success. 

^^ 2. My engagements at the Hospital and Asylum, and the 
services in the chapel, with those which arose from the appli- 
cations made to me by governors, added to my other urgent 
employments, were by far too much for me ; allowing me no 
time for exercise or recreation : so that I had no prospect of 
proceeding with the publication of an improved edition of the 
Family Bible, on the plan on which I had begun it, without 
such close application, as I found by experience, was injurious 
to my health and spirits. 

" My determination, however, was not made absolute at 
once ; and I purposed to wait, till I could resign my situation 
into the hands of an approved successor, before I pubhciy 
avowed my intention. In the mean time, I set about building 
a parsonage at Aston. 

^^ My resources for this purpose were, indeed, small : but I 
did not suppose the expense would be so heavy as it proved ; 
and I expected considerably more emolument from my publica- 
tion, than for reasons already assigned, it produced. 1 also 
borrowed a small sum on the living ; or rather secured a payment 
from it to my family, (according to the provisions of the Act 
for that purpose,) in case of my decease within a given term : — 
for I advanced the money myself, as I suppose is generally 
done in such cases. 

^^ My resources were farther aided, just at this time, by a 
very unexpected legacy, the circumstances attending which 
may deserve to be explained ; as the whole formed a remark- 
able illustration of the text, He that hath pity on the poor lend- 
eth unto the Lord ; and 4hat which he hath given will he pay him 
again, 

'^ Some years before, I had become acquainted, as a mini- 
ster, with a female servant, of whose character I entertained a 
high opinion, and who was reduced by disease, justly deemed 
incurable, to the painful necessity of going into a London work- 
house, (where the society must be peculiarly distressing to pious 
persons,) unless some charitable provision could, in another way, 
be made for her. As I was entrusted, by affluent and liberal 
friends, with money for such purposes, I proposed to support 
her for a time, till farther medical means could be tried. Her 
case, however, was soon given up as beyond the reach of me- 
dicine ; and it was thought she could not long survive. Her 
situation became known to some families in which she had lived ; 
and with the prospect of aid from them, I received her into my 
house, and undertook her support. From one family, in par- 
ticular, in which she was greatly respected, I received at least 



1 801 — 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 227 

li^l. a year on her account. This, with some other helps, ena- 
bled me to maintain her, without any improper expense to my- 
self. Thus things proceeded, till I was preparing to leave Lon- 
don, by building a house on my living ; when one of the family 
just mentioned, to whom I was known chiefly by means of this 
poor woman, died, and left me a legacy of 200Z. I still recei- 
ved, for several years^ the usual aid for her support, and at the de- 
cease of another of the family, a farther sum of 40Z. Thus I 
have had the privilege, and at little expense, for at least seven- 
teen or eighteen years of preserving from very great distress, a 
poor suffering diseased person, whom, I doubt not, the Saviour 
and Judge of the world will own at the great day of final retri- 
bution, as intimately related to himself, and the heir of his 
kingdom. (Matt. xxv. 34 — 40. Mark iii. 34, 35.)— I would 
farther observe, that this is the person, who was described in 
the ^Christian Observer,' for July 1803, p. 416, as having 
expended all her savings, made in service, upon her aged and 
distressed parents, in the confidence that God would raise her 
up friends, in case the time should come when she should not 
be able to maintain herself. — Such instances of the faithfulness 
of God to those who trust his providence, while they obey 
his commands, seem peculiarly worthy to be had in remem- 
brance." 

As this person is still living, and under the care of the family, 
(though she took, as she fully apprehended, her last farewell of 
me, when I first went to college, in the year 1795 !) little more 
can, with propriety, be here said concerning her. I may re- 
mark, however, that such are her fervent and affectionate pie- 
ty, her cheerfulness, and the consistency of her temper and con- 
duct, and (we are sure,) the earnestness of her prayers for all 
about her, that though she is unable to walk up and down stairs, 
or to get to church except by being carried ; yet her presence 
is esteemed a privilege, by servants as well as by master and 
mistress, to those who have received her under their roof.''^ 

" This legacy," my father proceeds, '' enabled me to go on 
with my building ; but, before it was finished, the circumstance 
of having found, as I ought, a proper successor, induced me 
immediately to resign the chaplainship of the Lock ; and after 
a sharp struggle, (the only contested election in which I was 
ever engaged, and in which I only contended by w^riting letters 
to different governors.) he was chosen, Feb. 3, 1803. 

* Since the above paragraph was written, the excellent person referred to, 
(named Elizabeth Maulder) has departed this life : but as a brief memoir of 
her has appeared in the " Christian Guardian," and is now published, with 
additions, as a separate tract, I forbear adding more concerning her in this 
place. 



228 ACCEPTING ASTON TO THE [CHAP. XIII. 

" As soon as it became known, that I was about to leave the 
Lock, a number of individuals, governors, and others, without 
my interposition, and without my knowing, for some time, that 
it was in hand, raised me a voluntary subscription of about 
3001 

^- 1 thought myself, indeed, entitled, not as a donation, but as 
a remuneration, to something from the hospital. The whole 
stipend which I received, at first 80Z.,then, as joint chaplain, 
lOOZ., and then 150Z., as sole chaplain, was charged to the 
chapel account ; and certainly was little enough for my services 
in the chapel. So that, for above seventeen years that I con- 
tinued at the Lock, I had attended the patients in the wards, as 
chaplain to the hospital^ without any thing brought to account 
on that score, and, 1 must say, wholly without compensation 
from man. — I also preached a weekly lecture for the same term 
of years, without any remuneration, except a few presents. For 
this, however, I did not consider the charity as indebted to me : 
but I did for the other. But as others did not see that I had 
any claim on the equity of the governors, I expressed a deter- 
mination not to receive any thing from the charity as a gratuity ; 
because I have always thought, that corporate bodies are under 
a responsibility for the use of the funds committed to their ma- 
nagement, which admits only of the payment of just debts, and 
equitable compensations for services received, and not of the 
liberality of gratuitous donations. 

"During the whole time that I was at the Lock, and indeed 
for some years before, the receipts from the chapel were small, 
compared with what they had formerly been ; and, in this way, 
I was but unsuccessful in my attempts to serve the charity. 
But, if the vulgar proverb, ' A penny saved is a penny gained,' 
be founded in truth, I must take more credit to myself, in respect 
to the finances, than has been allowed me. Perhaps it would 
be found, if the case were fully investigated, that as many hun- 
dreds were saved annually, in the management of the institution, 
by those friends whose plans I supported, and aided by measures 
more appropriately my own, as fell short in the income from 
the chapel, at its lowest depression. This at least is certain, 
though but little known, that in the dearest times, when bread 
(the main article of provision in the Hospital,) was four times 
the price, and other articles of consumption double the price 
they had been, more patients were cured, and the charity had 
more resources, than in the ^ golden days,' when the income of 
the chapel was three times as great. 

" When I was appointed sole chaplain, doleful forebodings 
were expressed of the ruinous consequences w^hich must follow : 
but, by a concurrence of circumstances, the single year, that I 



1801 — 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 229 

continued in that situation, was peculiarly productive both to 
the Hospital and the Asylum ; and I left the united charities 
much richer at the end of the term, than they were at the com- 
mencement. 

" I would only add on this subject, that I can rejoice in the 
testimony of my conscience before God, that I uniformly did 
my best, often amidst many censures, and against much oppo- 
sition, to promote the secular interests of the charities, as far 
as was consistent with the great object of both them and the 
chapel- bringing sinners to repentance and salvation ; and 
that I never suffered my own gratification, ease, interest, or 
credit, to warp me from that line of conduct, which I deemed 
incumbent on me ; and that, at least, I was enabled to defeat 
very many attempts, the success of which, it was afterward al- 
lowed, would have been highly detrimental. 

" Having made every requisite arrangement, I removed to 
Aston in the spring of 1803, and have here Hved nearly nine 
years in quiet and privacy ; with the opportunity of pursuing 
niy studies to far greater advantage than in town, and of reser- 
ving to myself time for recreation and exercise. The village is 
one of the smallest in the kingdom : two farm houses, a few la- 
bourers' cottages, and the newly erected parsonage, containing 
together about seventy inhabitants, young and old, form the 
whole of it ; without alehouse, shop, or mechanic of any kind. 
Still, however, there is some opportunity of usefulness : the 
small church is generally well attended on the Lord's day : and 
exemption, to a considerable degree, from parochial duties, 
leaves me at leisure for other services. 

"Since I came to this place, I have completed the second 
edition of the Family Bible, with the addition of marginal refe- 
rences ; have published a third edition : and am now preparing 
a fourth. I have collected and printed all my other previous 
works, (with the exception of Bunyan's Pilgrim with notes,) in 
nve volumes, octavo : have published several sermons ; and, 
durmgthe last year, (1811,) have written Remarks on the 
' Refutation of Calvinism.' 

" Here I close, for the present at least, this narrative. I 
might add many things concerning my family,— in respect of 
which, God has specially favoured me ; so that many have wish- 
ed me to say, what methods I took, which were crowned with 
such success. To this I must answer, that few things are look- 
ed back on by me with less satisfaction, than 7ny own conduct in 
respect to my children, except in one particular, which appears 
to have been the grand secret,— namely, that I have always 
sought for them, as well as for myself, in the fikst place, the 
kingdom of God^ and his righteousness.'' 

20 



230 



ACCEPTING ASTON TO THE [CHAP. XHI. 



My father's sentiments and practice concerning education 
must receive distinct notice liereafter ; when both parts of the g. 
above remarkable sentence, with which he concludes his nar- f 
rative will demand our attention. At present, therefore, I 
content myself with applying to it the sentiment of an acute ob- 
server,—" that a man always perceives his deficiencies most 
in those things in which he most excels." , . , , . 

Here then we take leave, of the document which has thus 
far been our guide. My father never made any subsequent 
addition to it ; and, for the remainder of his history, recourse 
must be had to what recollection must furnish, or the letters 
which passed between the various branches of the family may 
supply Though his narrative was written in 1812, he has, in 
fact, given the story of his life only to the period of his removal 
to Aston, in 1803, except in what relates to his Commentary ; 
the account of which has, in a former chapter, partly from his 
own manuscript, and partly from other sources, been earned 
down to the decision of the Court of Chancery, in 1813. In 
the remainder of the present chapter, we shall detail such par- 
ticulars as can be collected, and seem worthy of being recorded, 
to the same date, or somewhat later. 

In doing this, we may, in the first place, advert to certain 
visUs which he paid during the period in question. 

Of these, two were made to Hull, m the summer of 180G 
and 1 8 1 1 In the course of the former, he passed on to York, 
Leeds, and Huddersfield, where, as well as at Hull, he met 
with that respectful and cordial reception which his works had 
prepared for him, though he had hitherto been personally a 
stranger. On this occasion, he made the acquaintance of three 
eminent persons, all since deceased ; the venerable William 
Hev, Esq., and the Rev. Miles Atkinson, of Leeds, and the 
Rev. William Richardson, of York. The last named penetra- 
ting observer of mankind, was forcibly struck with his charac- 
ter! which he had always highly esteemed at a distance, and 
no; still more admired on a nearer view. He afterward made 
some observations to me on the subject, which led me, at a later 
period, to express a wish that he would write me a letter upon 
it ; but he said it was too late for him to make the attempt. 1 
remember two points which he noticed. One was, my fathers 
constant devotion to his great object : in whatever company he 
was, or whatever subject was introduced, he naturally and 
easily made it subservient, in the end, to the great religious de- 
sian for which he lived. The other point was, that with all 

his talents and industry, and in '^l' his^"""^^;,^? ^ Jbtv 
nothing for display ; he had consecrated all his efforts to utility, 
and had sacrificed nothing to reputation, any more than to 



1801 — 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 231 

interest. — With his preaching, Mr. R. was somewhat surpri- 
sed, on account of its abounding with famihar illustrations, so 
much more than he would have expected from his writings. 
It may be remarked, however, that Mr. R. heard him address 
only a week-night congregation. One of the illustrations re- 
ferred to, which he used on that occasion, was as follows : he 
supposed the common objection made against insisting so much 
upon faith, and the inward work of religion on the heart ; and 
that the objector should urge, ''• good works are every thing : if 
we can but bring men to hve well, we need not trouble our- 
selves so much about these doubtful and mysterious matters." 
^' This," said he, ^4s as if a man should come into a garden, and, 
finding the gardener busy in grafting his trees, should tell him 
that fruit was every thing, and that all this, which he was enga- 
ged in, seemed a great waste of labour. The gardener would 
reply. True, fruit is every thing ; but then I know that this is 
the only way to obtain good fruit." 

Twace, also, he visited Bristol, once in 1809, and again in 
1813; In the former of these journeys, he preached at several 
places in Wiltshire and Somersetshire : but of Bath, he re- 
marks, " I was almost enchanted with the beauties of nature 
and art, beyond any thing I ever saw before : but no opening for 
preaching there." His second journey to Bristol was, by re- 
quest of the Church Missionary Society, to assist at the forma- 
tion of that auxiliary association, which has since yielded such 
effective aid to the parent institution. His reception at Bristol 
was very gratifying ; and the regard borne him was afterward 
testified in a very practical manner ; as, in its proper place, we 
shall take occasion to state. 

In 1812, having gone to see a friend at Rogate, in Sussex, 
he accepted an invitation to visit Portsmouth : where he was 
received with all possible kindness by Commissioner and Mrs., 
now Sir George and Lady Grey. 

His last journey to any considerable distance was in 1813, 
to Cambridge, where his only daughter (who had been married 
about two years before,) then resided. Here again he met 
with the most kind and cordial reception from various members 
of the University, and had reason to believe that his preaching, 
expositions, and conversation, were very useful. He says, a 
few months afterward, '-'- My visit there, to which I was uncom- 
monly reluctant, seems to have been greatly blessed ;" and he 
adverts in particular, to the late Dr. Jowett, then recently de- 
ceased, as having expressed to several persons how much he 
had felt himself excited by what passed. To have contributed, 
in any degree, to arm, as it were, an excellent and distinguish- 



to'l ACCEPTIISG ASTON TO THE [CHAP. XIII. 

ed character for his last conflict, seems to have afforded him 
pecuUar satisfiiction. 

In this journey, an accident occurred, in the overturning of 
the coach, which proved fatal to a fellow-traveller. — From 
about tliis period, my father began to complain of a topical af- 
fection, (tlireatening cancer,) which henceforward confined him 
to his own neighbourhood, and, for some time, excited alarm- 
ing and gloomy apprehensions ; which, however, were happily 
never realized to the extent that was dreaded. 

The next subject to which we will advert, is that of his pub- 
lications during this period. 

My father has observed in the preceding narrative, that he 
had published several sermons. Soon after his settlement at 
Aston, he was called to preach a funeral sermon for the Rev. 
Jeremiah Newell, vicar of Great Missenden, which he publish- 
ed, with a brief memoir annexed, for the benefit of Mr. N.'s fa- 
mily ; and the attention thus called to their circumstances hap- 
pily proved the means of a comfortable provision being made 
for them. — In May, 1804, he accepted the invitation of the 
London Missionary Society, to preach one of their anniversary 
sermons, which he did, at St. Saviour's Church, Southwark, 
prefixing to the published sermon the motto, ^'' Is there not a 
cause ?" (1 Samuel xvii. 29,) and justifying his pleading for 
that society, as well as for the one with which he was more im- 
mediately connected. — In 1808, he was again called upon to 
bewail and commemorate a deceased brother, and old friend, 
the Rev. Thomas Pentycross, A. M. " more than thirty-three 
years vicar of St. Mary's, Wallingfbrd." The sermon is enti- 
tled, " The Duty and Advantage of remembering deceased 
Ministers." In 1810, the death of a very pious missionary on 
the western coast of Africa, the Rev. J. C. Barneth, who had 
been for a considerable time under his instruction at Aston, led 
him to preach and publish a sermon, with reference to that 
event, on '' The Spirit and Principles of a genuine Missionary :" 
the text. Acts xx. 24 : " None of these things move me," &:,c. 
In June, 1810, he preached at the church of St. Lawrence 
Jewry, London, and afterward published a Sermon in behalf 
of the Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews : the 
text, Zech. viii. 23. — In 1811, at the request of the Church 
Missionary Society, he delivered an address to two of their mis- 
sionaries proceeding to Africa ; which was pubhshed in the 
appendix to the Society's Twelfth Report. And in the year 
following he preached, at St Antholin's, Watling-street, be- 
fore the Governors of the London Female Penitentiary on 
their fifth anniversary. The Sermon was published at theiv 



IgOl 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 233 

request, and is entitled, '' Joy in Heaven," being on the text, 
Luke XV. 10. 

The only extensive work in which he engaged, daring these 
years, in addition to the improvement, and repeated pubhcation 
of his Commentary, was that of which he himself has already 
made mention, ^^ Remarks on the Bishop of Lincoln's (now 
Winchester's) Refutation of Calvinism." It appeared at first 
in two volumes octavo : but was subsequently re-modeled and 
published, in 1817, in one large volume. — The collection of his 
Theological Works, in five volumes octavo, was published in 
numbers, between the years 1805 and 1808. 

It has been already noticed, that at Aston my father became 
the tutor of the persons preparing to go out as missionaries un- 
der the Church Missionary Society. I'his service he continued 
about the space of seven years, from 1807 to 1814. I find its 
commencement thus stated, in the Society's Eighth Report : — 
"On Mr. Dawes' removal from Bledlow, the Rev. Thomas 
Scott, rector of Aston Sandford, near to Bledlow, added most 
seasonably to the many* proofs which he had given of warm 
interest in the objects of the society, by acceding to the wish 
of your committee, in taking charge of the missionaries. As 
they could not be accommodated in Mr. Scott's house, they are 
placed in a pious family near him, and enjoy the daily advan- 
tage of his assiduous and affectionate instruction. Your com- 
mittee will only add on this subject, that his report of their di- 
ligence, improvement, and piety, is of the most satisfactory na- 
ture." — The approaching termination of this engagement is 
thus adverted to in the Fourteenth Report : " The health of 
the Rev. Thomas Scott, the venerable teacher of the society's 
missionary students, being seriously impaired, the seminary 
will be estabhshed, as soon as practicable, in the house of the 
society." 

The persons who came under his instruction in this capacity 
were several of them Englishmen, who have since received or- 
dination ; but the majority, Germans, in general Lutheran cler- 
gymen. All of them went forth as missionaries into the hea- 
then world, and most of them are now usefully employed in . 
that character ; though some have died in the service. The 
sentiments of grateful and affectionate veneration which they, 
without exception, conceived for their instructor, were publicly 
testified by them, as they successively took leave of the society 
to repair to the stations assigned them ; and were more private- 
ly expressed in the correspondence, which, as opportunity oflfer- 
ed, they afterward kept up with him. 

The progress which they made in their studies was highly 
creditable ; in some instances remarkable. I remember to 

20* 



234 ACCEPTING ASTON TO THE [CHAP. Xlir, 

have visited Aston, when four of them, who had come to my 
father with scarcely any knowledge of language beyond their 
mother tongue, were reading Cicero and Horace, the Greek 
tragedians, the Hebrew prophets, and the Koran, (Arabic,) all 
in the originals. 

The subject of the study of Arabic may deserve a little more 
distinct notice, as it respects the tutor, not less than the pupils. 
In June, 1808, I received a letter in which it was observed: 
^* Mr. Pratt (the Society's secretary,) begs that your father will 
begin to teach the missionaries Susoo and Arabic, of neither of 
which languages he has any knowledge ! He felt very uncom- 
fortable about this for a day or two. However, he has now 
begun to study these new languages with them." And in No- 
vember following, he himself wrote to me as follows : 

*' With all my other engagements, I am actually, in addition 
to what I before taught the missionares, reading Susoo and 
Arabic with them. The former we have mastered without dif- 
ficulty as far as the printed books go ; and hope soon to begin 
translating some chapters into the language. But, as to the 
latter, we make little progress ; yet so far that I have no doubt of 
being able to read the Koran with them, should they continue 

here. It is in itself a most difficult language but my 

knowledge of the Hebrew gives me an advantage." 

To say nothing of the Susoo, an imperfect African dialect, 
lately reduced to writing, those who are acquainted with the 
feelings of men in general, when approaching their grand cli- 
macteric, and with their capacity for new acquisitions, will best 
appreciate the energy and resolution displayed in his thus calm- 
ly encountering and mastering, at this time of life, with all his 
other engagements and all his infirmities, the formidable diffi- 
culties of the Arabic language. The Hebrew, likewise, which 
was his auxiliary on this occasion, had been entirely resumed, 
and almost learned, since his fifty-third year. 

But the most edifying subject of contemplation will be, the 
spirit and views with which he carried on this service, of in- 
structing the missionaries for some considerable time after he 
had found reason to complain. '^ My chief difficulty is about 
ray missionary pupils: I find the confinement to my chair, &c., 
in teaching them, almost insupportable : yet I know not how to 
give it up, till some other plan is formed." — What his views 
were, may be learned from a letter addressed to a clergyman, 
who, understanding that he was about to rehnquish the task, 
had thoughts of proposing to succeed him in it. He writes to 
him as follows. 

"November 18, 1813. I have not given up the tuition of 
the missionaries, though I have urged the committee to look out 



1801 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 235 

for, and form a more permanent seminary. Were I able, anct 
external matters convenient for their reception, I should count 
it the best employment of my latter days. But every thing 
here is wholly inconvenient, and the sedentary posture for so 
long a time is very uneasy to me : nor indeed is it likely that I 
shall long be able to go on with it. But I have a strong rea- 
son at present for not giving up the service, if I can help it , 

If, however, a permanent seminary can be founded for the mis- 
sionaries, I shall not suffer any personal concern of mine to in- 
terfere ; and indeed I shall greatly rejoice in it As far as I 

have seen and heard, they give as little trouble as men can do ; 
and do most things for themselves. They have hitherto been 
much respected and loved in the neighbourhood ; and have at 
least done nothing to hinder my usefulness. Several of them, 
in matters which I am not able to do, have been a good deal 

helpful to me ; and they are, I think, a credit to the cause 

I think it probable that, remembering the way in which I, in a 
very slight manner comparatively, brought you on in Greek 
and Latin ; and receiving farther hints on my more matured 
method of teaching grown men ; you would be more likely to 
adopt what is useful in my plans, than a stranger would be. — 
But I only teach languages in ordine ad teaching divinity. The 
missionaries, as they have hitherto come to me, have been pious 
men, but superficial theologians ; and my morning expositions 
have been their lectures on divinity. — I hope of good use. 
This part, therefore, in whatever form it is put, must be the 
main object, — In respect of the Hebrew, I have little doubt but 
with the application of an hour, or half an hour a day, regular- 
ly, you would soon be competent ; and your situation would 
afford you many helps : but not so, I fear, as to the Arabic... 
I am persuaded I could, in six weeks, put you into the way of 
teaching yourself Arabic, far better than I could teach myself 
after eighteen months. If you wish to attempt it, get Erpe- 
nius' Grammar — not Richardson's. There you will have 
pointed examples, and short clear rules ; in which Richardson 
is affectedly deficient. You will want no other book for a time 
but Erpenius. It contains, besides the grammar, Arabic pro- 
verbs and fables, and one book of the Koran, all pointed — the 
history of Joseph, v/orse murdered than his brothers ever pur- 
posed to murder him As a proportion of our missionaries 

have been Germans, and perhaps will be, were I as young as 
you, or not more than twenty years older, and were I about to 
undertake the service, I would, if possible, learn German. 
It would be a permanent advantage : and indeed it is almost 

impracticable to go on, with effect, without it But let me 

beg of you, in conclusion, very seriously to consider and pray 



236 ACCEPTING ASTON TO THE [CHAP. XIII. 1 

over the vast importance of the undertaking, and the immense 
responsibility connected with it. Your example, spirit, views, 
and instructions, will be almost inseparably connected with the 
conduct, spirit, and instructions of those, who are to give idola- 
ters and Mohammedans their impression of the Christian reli- 
gion, in many parts of the world. If they be such as St. Paul 
would approve, the true honour and usefulness of such a per- 
manent situation will exceed that of any metropolitan in Chris- 
tendom : and, if the contrary, the fatal effects may be incalcu- 
lable. It is a service to be engaged in with much seriousness 
and prayer — Who is sufficient for these tilings ? — and in entire 
dependence on the grace of the Lord Jesus : I had almost said, 
with fear and trembling. Yet I would not discourage you. If 
magna reverentia dehetur puero^ you may add, major evan- 
gelistcB. You should study well what St. Paul says to Timothy 
on these subjects; especially 2 Tim. iii. 10, 11. My prayers, 
and my counsel which I can give, shall not be wanting. May 
God fit you for the service, appoint you to it, and prosper you 
in it." 

In this connexion, it is natural to mention the lively interest 
taken by my father in all the institutions, having for their object 
the diffusion of Christianity in the world. It was impossible 
that one, who had prayed so long and so earnestly for the ex- 
tension of Christ's kingdom among men, should witness the 
Christian world at length awakening from its slumbers, and be- 
ginning to put forth its powers in a manner more becoming 
the character of the rehgion which it professes, without heart- 
felt gratitude and joy ; or without exerting himself by every 
means in his power, to cherish the rising spirit. We have al- 
ready seen that he preached and published sermons for several 
institutions. Immediately on his becoming resident at Aston, 
he determined to make an annual collection in his congregation 
for the Church Missionary Society. Though it was thought by 
some rather visionary to expect any thing worth notice in such 
a situation, he resolved to make the attempt, and to persevere 
in it ; convinced that, by exciting an interest in behalf of the 
salvation of others, Christian ministers most materially promote 
the success of their labours among their own people. His first 
collection, beyond all expectation, exceeded 17Z. ; the third 
24Z. ; the sixth 31Z. ; and the total amount stated in the report 
for 1820 is 303/. 1-85. 10^. When the obscurity of the parish 
is considered, I hope this result will encourage other clergymen 
to " go and do likewise." 

The Bible Society also shared his warmest attachment, and 
its success afforded him the most unfeigned joy. Several of his 
latest excursions were made to assist at the meetings of its auxi- 



1801 1813.] SETTLEMENT OF HIS BIBLE. 237 

liary societies. The substance of two of his speeches on 
these occasions, one deUvered at High Wycombe, in 1812, and 
the other at the meeting of the Vale of Aylesbury society, held 
at Haddenham in 1816, was, at the request of the respective 
committees, reduced to writing, and published with their re- 
ports. The last of these societies, since become one of consi- 
derable extent, and dignified with high patronage, may be re- 
garded as having originated with his family ; and its associa- 
tions are spread through the neighbouring villages all around 
Aston. The former of the speeches referred to, was delivered 
just at the period of Dr. Marsh's opposition to the society ; 
and exhibits a specimen of terse and pointed argumentation. 
The closing sentences may be introduced here as illustrative of 
its author's spirit with regard to these societies. 

" I conclude as I began : *• Precious Bible, what a treasure i' 
the light of our feet ^ and the lantern of our paths: our fjuide 
in youth, our comfort in old age, our antidote against the fear 
of death. The longer I live, the more I feel for those who 
have not the word of God. I am growing old, and feel the in- 
firmities of age. I know I must soon die. I am a sinner 
against God : I must appear before him in judgment : I must 
exist for ever, in happiness or misery : but I can find no light, 
no hope, no comfort, except from the Bible, ^hdii should I 
do without the Bible, and that Saviour whom the Bible reveals 
to me ? — While, then, the Bible is our own invaluable treasure, 
the source of all our knowledge, hope, and comfort, let us do 
what we can to communicate the precious treasure to others 
also, all over the world. We can do but little individually, it 
is true ; yet great multitudes, cordially uniting, may effect much. 
Time was, since I can remember, when, if I had possessed the 
means in other respects, I should hardly have known how to 
7'each out the blessing, beyond my own contracted circle. But 
this society, and others of a similar nature, so to speak, lengthen 
my arms ; and, by concurring heartily in the designs of those 
who conduct them, we may stretch out our hands to the inha- 
bitants of the east and of the west — of Africa, of Asia, of Ame- 
rica, as well as of Europe : and give to them the light of life. 
Let us then do what we can^ while here ; and so wait for the 
mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.^'' 

Before bringing the present chapter to a close, we may ad- 
vert to the general eflTect of my father's residence and labours 
at Aston. Upon the whole, he found it a more encouraging si- 
tuation than any other in which he had been placed since he 
quitted the curacy of Ravenstone. In bad weather, indeed, the 
state of the roads was such, that a great number of his hearers 
were unable to reach the church ; and, on various accounts, the 



238 ACCEPTING ASTON, &C. [CHAP. XIH, 

congregation fluctuated from time to time, especially after the 
opening of a Baptist fneeting in the neighbourhood, to which 
no small pains were taken to draw all persons who manifested 
any religious seriousness : and which was, in consequence, a 
source of considerable obstruction and uneasiness to him. Yet, 
in general, the church was well attended, and much good was 
done. Many careless and worldly persons, and not a few who 
had led even profligate lives, were ^'' converted from the error 
of their ways," and '•'' brought forth fruits meet for repentance :" 
and a considerable body of evidently pious and well instructed 
Christians was formed around him : though he had to lament, 
and did deeply lament, over many even of his nearest neighbours, 
who still held out against all his admonitions and his prayers. 
Nor was this all : by the earnest and active character of his united 
piety and benevolence, an impression was made on the surround- 
ing neighbourhood ; an interest was excited in behalf of religious 
institutions ; schools were established, and associations formed 
for the relief of the sick and needy, where previously no such 
things had been thought of To stir up Christians '•'- to improve 
their talents," was a prominent object of his instructions ; and, 
while he set them so eminent an example of the duty inculcated, 
•' his labour was not," and could not be, " in vain in the Lord." 
A case, in which his assistance was solicited soon after he 
took up his abode at Aston, may also well deserve to be men- 
tioned here, not only as it led to the settlement of his second son 
in the situation which he still occupies, but especially for the 
extraordinary display of Christian benevolence and liberality 
which it furnishes. Mr. John West, a native of the village of 
Gawcott, (a hamlet of the parish of Buckingham,) born and 
brought up in very humble life, and living to the end of his 
days in a style little superior to that of a country labourer, had 
reahzed, chiefly by dealing in thread lace, (the manufacture of 
the country,) a fortune of several thousand pounds. Having 
himself learned, chiefly from the unassisted study of the Scrip- 
tures, the value of a Saviour, the great importance of Christian 
truths, and the great privilege of religious worship, he looked 
with feelings of compassion and deep concern upon the irreli- 
gious state of his native village, containing nearly ^ve hundred 
inhabitants, without any place of worship among them, and si- 
tuate a mile and a half from their parish church. He, in con- 
sequence, formed the generous purpose of supplying, entirely 
from his own funds, the deficiency which he deplored. Nor 
did he content himself, as many have done, with making the re- 
quisite provision by will for the posthumous execution of his de- 
sign : he resolved immediately to give up, during his life-time, 
4000Z. or 6000i. for the purpose of building and endowing a 



1810—1814.] LETTERS. 23T 

chapel at Gawcott. Accordingly the chapel was promptly 
raised ; but, the founder being a decided churchman, and de- 
termined to have his chapel regularly connected with the es- 
tabhshment, and, at the same time, to vest the patronage in 
such a manner as he thought most likely to secure its being 
served by a succession of truly pious ministers, he had now to 
encounter difficulties which might easily have been foreseen, 
but which he had not anticipated. Under these circumstances-, 
my father's counsel and aid were sought ; and, the business 
being subsequently turned over to my brother, whom Mr. W. 
offered to nominate as first minister of the chapel, it was at 
length, through the friendly interposition of the Diocesan, (the 
present Bishop of Winchester,) with the vicar of Buckingham, 
brought to a successful issue. The chapel was opened under 
an episcopal license, March 16, 1806, and consecrated May 14, 
following. The founder lived to see and rejoice in the happy 
effects of his pious benevolence, in the improved state of the 
village and neighbourhood, till September, 1814, when he died 
in the seventy-eighth year of his age. My brother published a 
funeral sermon on the occasion, with a memoir prefixed, in 
which some important reflections are introduced, on the great 
disadvantage under which the establishment is placed by exist- 
ing laws, as compared with the various descriptions of dissent- 
ers, in respect to the erection of churches or chapels ; and 
which actually amounts to the exclusion of the people, in 
many country hamlets, from divine worship and religious in- 
struction. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

LETTERS BELOIsGING TO THE PERIOD OF THE PRECEDING 
CHAPTER. 

We now proceed to my fiither's correspondence during the 
period we have been reviewing. We will present some extracts 
bearing upon different topics. 

1. On the work of his ministry. 

The discouragement arising from the want of apparent suc- 
cess is a feeling to which, it has been already observed, those 
who are labouring in ^^ the work of the Lord," against all the 
obstacles of this evil world, must be often exposed. To such 
persons the following observations may be both interesting and 
useful : — 

''March 11, 1804. You express great discouragement as 
to the success of your ministerial labours; of course, you mean 



^4U LETTERS. [CHAP. XIVc 

the visible success. This, I am convinced, is a temptation to 
which you are peculiarly exposed, and peculiarly accessible : 
yet, if it once get fast hold of your mind, it will have a very un- 
favourable effect on the aggregate of your usefulness in future 
life. . . . r trust God has given you a simple desire of serving 
and glorifying him as a Christian: nay, I cannot but think 
you set out with such a desire of glorifying him as a minister^ 
by directing all your studies and labours to that grand object, 
the salvation of sinners ; subordinating all other pursuits to it. 
Now, if this be so, can you beheve that he intends, after all, to 
leave you finally to labour in vain, and spend your strength to 
little or no purpose ? Should such a feeling possess your mind, 
you may not cease to serve God as a Christian ; but that fire 
which must animate the zealous minister will be smothered, or 
at least damped ; and you will gradually get to seek that satis- 
faction in other engagements, studies, and pursuits, which the 
ministry of the gospel has not afforded, and which you prema- 
turely concluded that you, in particular, were not to derive 
from it. In consequence, you may render yourself respecta- 
ble, perhaps more so, in the world ; but no literary honours, 
no worldly prosperity, or reputation, no usefulness in any other 
line, can satisfy the ardent desire of my heart in respect of you, 
if you be not useful, I will say extensively useful, as a minis- 
ter. Without a measure of enthusiastic earnestness in the pur- 
suit of his object, you know no man succeeds greatly in any 
thing : beware then of that discouragement, which, (to use 
your own word,) tends to paralyze your efforts. Remember 
that there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth; (I 
preached on that subject this afternoon :) and, supposing only 
one in a year should be brought to repentance, what else can 
you do that would cause joy to holy angels ? . . . . Perhaps, at 
first setting out, you might be ready to think that a style of 
preaching, which was generally acceptable to pious people, 
was all that need be aimed at ; and that success would follow 
of course. It may be needful for you to learn, that pious per- 
sons hear more for themselves than for their unconverted neigh- 
bours ; and that you must risk dissatisfying some of them, if 
you would declare the whole counsel of God^ and keep your- 
self pure from the blood of all men. Perhaps you looked at 
some individuals as models, and too much proposed imitating 
them ; though rather cramping the energy of your spirit by so 
doing. I say perhaps., in these things, merely to excite a ques- 
tion. But my prevalent opinion is, that you are useful, but do 
not see the effect. Even at-Ravenstone I remember complain- 
ing in a new-year's sermon, that, for a w^hole twelvemonth, I 
had seen no fruit of my preaching : yet it appeared, within the 



1801—1813.] LETTERS. 241 

course of the next twelvemonth, that not less than ten or twelve 
had been brought to consider their ways^ during that discou- 
raging year ; besides others, I trust, that I did not know of. 
Cast thy bread on the ivaters^ and it shall be found after many 
days In the morning sow thy seed^ and in the evening withhold 
not thine hand ; for thou canst not tell which shall prosper^ or 
whether both shall be alike good. Endeavour by laying open the 
holy law, very particularly, to follow men into all the parts of 
their lives, and actions, and thoughts. Dwell much on the na- 
ture and effects of regeneration, repentance, faith ; and on the 
peculiarities of the gospel, especially the love of Christ. Pray 
much for direction, assistance, and a blessing ; and for sim- 
plicity of intention and dependence. Try not to be stationary; 
but to bring forth things new^ as well as old ; that your profiting 
may appear unto all: and wait patiently in this way. Or, in 
the apostle's words. Give thyself wholly thereunto : Take heed 
to thyself and to the doctrine ; continue in them ; for in so doings 
thou shalt both save thyself and them, that hear thee. In this way, 
I have no doubt that you will eventually find a larger number to 
be your crown of rejoicing in the day of Christ; nay, many to 
be your comfort here. But waiting is as necessary as preach- 
ing and praying." 

In another letter : '' The Lord generally does good to us, 

and then bym Should a dozen careless sinners, amidst 

hundreds of drowsy hearers, be effectually awakened, this would 
make all the rest begin to look about them. For such an event 
I would look, and hope, and pray ; and preach such sermons as 
seemed best calculated for the effect ; saying to all that might 
object, '^ Is there not a cause .^" 

To a young minister, about to remove to London, he wrote 
as follows : — 

" July 2, 1807. You know I am not peculiarly favourable 
to young ministers fixing in London, where almost all are either 
higged or kicked to death, according as they are popular or 
unpopular; and that I am partial to a country "village of tolera- 
te size I hope you will redouble your earnestness in 

prayer as the importance of your station is increased. I 
should think that considerable time employed in study of the 
Scriptures, and such books as elucidate the Scriptures, is so 
needful on entering on a station in that large city, in order that 
your ministry may be less and less like the superficial decla- 
mation of too many young ministers, that, unless necessity 
urges, it would be best not to be encumbered with pupils at pre- 
sent. I should be glad to hear that you wrote a good deal, 
though you should not use what you write, either in preaching 

21 



■M2 LETTERS. [chap. XIT, 

or print : it gives a man a readiness, a correctness of thinking 
and expression on theological subjects, and a fulness, which 
mere reading will never do. Have, however, something to do, 
which may be a reason for dechning many of those gossiping, 
unprofitable visits, in which so many London ministers waste, 
and worse than waste their hours." 

Some publications, which appeared about that time, occa- 
sioned the following remarks on a letter to a lady, whose con- 
nexions lay in the most respectable classes of rehgious so- 
ciety : — 

" I am not sorry for the opportunity of speaking my mind, 
not only on this, but on some other publications, which have a 
measure of the same tendency. It may, I think, without par- 
tiality, be said, that the body of men CB\[ed evangelical clergy- 
men^ (1 do not say who gave them that name — I did not,) are 
the persons, at least within the church, from whom there is the 
greatest hope of a revival of genuine Christianity. Now is it 
possible that you, and your pious and sensible friends, can 
think, that bringing forward in so public a manner, by a pro- 
fessed friend, without mercy or distinction^ d\\ their real and sup- 
posed faults, is the way to strengthen their hands, and promote 
their success ? The tendency of such a system is, to make the 
young people, especially, hear our sermons, and take up our 
books, not only with prejudice, but with a secret desire of 
showing their discernment, by discovering defects in style, in 
manner, &c. ; something ' vulgar, and methodistical, or secta- 
rian,' or like it. Now can this subserve their edification ? Such 
writers as the Monthly Reviewers have, in many instances, 
pointed out inaccuracies, colloquial and low expressions, &c., 
in my writings ; and I have thanked them, and profited by 
their remarks : but this way of indefinitely speaking of defects, 
and faults, and vulgarity, and casts of sectarianism, and the 
like, without specifying particulars, excites prejudices, and 
gives no opportunity of avoiding them. T have, for almost 
thirty years, been labouring to weed out of my writing, and 
to induce others to do the same, every unscriptural expression, 
from whatever quarter or company derived : but no distinction 
is made between this, and the slang of a sect or party. Nay, 
it seems, scriptural language itself must be changed for more 
modern terms ; and then modern doctrines will supplant that 
of the apostles. It is also to me a very extraordinary thing, 
that wisdom and prudence should be the young man's virtues, 
and rashness the old man's fault. This does not accord to 
facts in general. In reality, I do believe, publications of this 
kind tend to render young ministers more afraid of being zeal- 
ous than of being lukewarm* They teach them to call ihefear 



1801 — 1813.] LETTERS. 243 

of man^ prudence : and the whole tends to form an inefficient 
ministry ; some part, at least, of evangelical truth, coldly, for- 
mally, cautiously stated, with little application. And, after all. 
I must prefer the Newtons, Venns, nay, Berridges, &c. — the 
old warm-hearted men, with all their imperfections, to these 
sangfroid young men." 

With this extract, may be connected another addressed to 
myself, in November of the same year, which was afterward 
made the basis of a paper in a periodical publication.^ These 
heads of the paper may sufficiently explain his sentiments in 
this place : 

'^ You wish my opinion on the controverted question, how 
far the faults of uprig^ht ministers are proper subjects of public 
discussion ? a question at this era pecuharly interesting, as 
more is said by many professed friends on their faults, real or 
imaginary, than on those of any other description of persons — 
at least with more minuteness. 1st, 1 do not think any order 
of men privileged by exemption from jprop^r investigation, and 
Just censure of their conduct : nor would such an exemption 
be an advantage, but the contrary. 2d, I think that, in exa- 
mining and censuring any body of men, either they should be 
viewed alone; or, if another body be brought forward with 
them, the faults of both bodies should be specified with equal 
severity and equal candour : else where is impartiality ? 3d, I 
think that, in order to this investigation and censure, some pre- 
cise rule should be previously laid down, (for instance, of the 
evangelical clergy, the Bible and Prayer-book,) and nothing 
charged as a fault which cannot be shown to be such by this 
precise rule. Otherwise, opinion, however erroneous, or cus- 
tom, however corrupt, or fancy, however capricious, may be 
made the standard, according to the prejudices of the soi-disant 
judge. 4th, I think that the real excellencies of upright cha- 
racters, (allovvcdly such, and especially of those from whom the 
best hope of good to thetising generation of mankind, in gene- 
ral arises,) should be prominently marked, v^heu faults are to 
be pointed out ; and nothing aggravated ; nay, all touched as 
leniently as the hope of amending them will allow : and if, in 
any collective body, some individuals are excepted from the 
general charge, they should not only be exempted from the cen- 
sure conveyed, but honourably distinguished. It can answer no 
good purpose, needlessly to sink the credit and influence of the 
only men who seem hkely to do extensive good among us ; which 
has lately been done to a great degree. 5th, I think that, in 
every thing respecting style, manner, &:,c., the charge should 
be specific and precise, not vague and general ; that we may 

* Christian Guardian, May, 1810. 



-44 LETTERS. [chap. XIV. 

know what to correct : which is not the case in many of the 
censures passed. Lastly, God gives one gift to one, another to 
another : the treasure is in earthen vessels : but ideal perfec- 
tion, hke that of the hero of the novel, is made the standard, 
and all in real life are despised for falling short of it." 

My father, it is generally known, was accustomed to use a 
short prayer, adapted to the occasion, before his sermons ; to 
preach extemporary, or, more properly speaking, unwritten 
sermons ; and those of a greater length than is in many places 
usual. On the first of these practices, he wrote rather urgent- 
ly, after a visit to Hull, in 1811 : — 

" I do greatly wish an alteration in your prayer before ser- 
mon. Here I do not urge you to pray extempore; but only 
to bring together some parts of different collects, or in some 
way to make your collect a prayer for assistance, and a bless- 
ing on the important service on which you are entering. It 
may be said that you pray for assistance and a blessing in pri- 
vate : but do you lay no stress on the concurrence of hundreds 
in prayer for this blessing ? and, so to speak, on the sympathy 
excited in the congregation by a few words, not much, if at all, 
longer than your collect, in which the divine assistance and 
blessing are avowedly craved on the sermon ? It appears to mc 
often to electrify the congregation ; and to produce the expec- 
tation and the desire of good, which is more especially need- 
ful. The collects are not calculated for this purpose : they do 
not express the special blessings wanted : and they lie more 
open to the objection of repeating prayers already offered, than 
what 1 contend for. I cannot express how much I felt this de- 
ficiency. I must be allowed to think, that we have not success, 
because we ask not^ and do not stir up others to expect and ask 
a blessing from God ortly. I beg you will consider and pray 
over it. Every year convinces more and more of the necessity 
of thus expressly asking the blessing from God, publicly, on our 
preaching." 

On the other points, I give the following brief extracts : — 

" 1808. The fault of short sermons is, not that there is not 
as much said as the hearers can remember ; but that there is 
not room for explanation and application ; for entering into 
those minute particulars which most come home to the con- 
science. And, as to the length, what people are used to, they 
expect, and complain only of what exceeds it, be the stint more 
or less." 

^M812. I never heard a half-hour sermon, which did not 
either fail in particular instruction in doctrine and duty, or was 
not, in part, frustrated of its effect by too rapid delivery." 

'^ 1809. The degree in which, after the most careful prepa- 



ration for the pulpit, new thoughts, new arguments, animated 
addresses, often flow into my mind, while speaking to a con- 
gregation, even on very common subjects, make me feel as if 
I was quite another man, than when poring over them in my 
study. — There will be inaccuracies : but generally the most 
striking things in my sermons were unpremeditated." 

'^ February 12, 1812. What lies do men tell of us evan- 
gelical and Calvinistic ministers ! Witness Dr. 's ser- 
mon at Cambridge. We are not likely to fall under the wo 
denounced against those of whom all men speaJc well : but if 
we enjoy the blessing of those concerning whom men speak 
ml ^ falsely^ for Ckrisfs sake^ it may console us for all the ef- 
fects of their slanders. I have prayed for such persons more 
of late than formerly, in the use of the Litany ; for ' all bi- 
shops, priests, and deacons,' &c. ; for those who are ^ in error, 
that they may be led into the way of truth ;' and for all our 
* slanders,' &:^c." 

" 1804. I fear many are too timid, as many are harsh, rash, 
and unfeeling upon the subject. Nothing does so much harm 
as trying to keep fair with anti-scriptural and unholy preachers ; 

wl?ich I fear, though less offensive than Mr. 's abuse, is 

as pernicious. May the Lord keep us from extremes !" 

IL On provision for families, and education of children, par- 
ticularly those of ministers. 

In reply to some questions concerning life insurance, in 1805, 
he made the following observations : 

" Nor do I think it, in a religious view, liable to any other 
objection, than may be made to laying by money at all — which 
is in many cases allowable, and in several a duty ; where it 
can be done consistently with equity and charity. If a man 
have faith strong enough, and urgent occasions call for it, he 
may perhaps do as well for his family, if he expends it in judi- 
cious charities. But, when it comes to this, that a man has 
more than he ought to expend on himself and his family, I 
should always advise him to lay aside a certain portion for cha- 
ritable purposes, before he counts the rest his own, either to 
spend or to lay by. The proportion must be determined by a 
variety of circumstances, according to his conscience in the 
sight of God. In some cases, I should think it proper to make 
a point of disposing in charity of at least as much as was laid 
by : and this I call seed corny 

" August 30, 1807. As far as my conscience was satisfied 
as to the question of duty.,! never have allowed myself to hesi- 
tate about events or consequences. I cannot but conclude from 
the Scriptures, that the Lord will provide for us and ours wfaat 
is needful for them, at present and in future ; and that our con« 

21* 



cern is to do our duty, and leave the rest to him, living and dy- 
ing. This, I think, is especially the privilege of the disinte- 
rested and laborious niinisters ; but I am sorry to say, that 
worldly prudence, and the desire of making provision for fami- 
lies, not only for necessary things, but for gentility and afflu- 
ence, is, in my opinion, eating out the life or spirituality, and 
simple trust in the Lord, even among those who preach scrip- 
tural doctrine. The spirit of the commercial world, having 
long corroded the professors of the gospel, is now making ha- 
voc among ministers. The plan of marrying rich wives, or 
presiding over very lucrative academies, would have made St. 
Paul dolefully cry out. All seek their own^ not the things of Je- 
sus Christ. I believe those who thus seem to insure a provi- 
sion for their families, or security against the effects which mar- 
riage may entail on a man of narrow income, are clogged in 
their ministry, nay, sink in general estimation, and are exclu- 
ded fron usefulness, more than they are aware of. Indeed it is 
to me one of the most discouraging symptoms of the religious 
state of our land. I have been nearly thirty-five years in or- 
ders ; and, except during two years that I continued single, 
fliy regular income, as a minister, would never defray more 
than half my expenditure : yet, though often tried, I endea- 
voured to trust the Lord, and I have been provided for. Mr. 
Newton's story of the nobleman whom the king required to at- 
tend to his business, and he would take care of the nobleman's 
interest, has been of great use to me. . . . To those, who seem 
to think it pitiable^ that your children are not previously pro- 
vided for, I should fairly avow my sentiments, that the Chris- 
tian, and above all, the minister, is to seek first the kingdom of 
God^ for himself and his children, and that God has expressly 
promised, that all else shall be added. Your Father knoweih 
what things ye have need of. If I, a poor sinner, had lOOZ. 
to spare without any inconvenience, and knew that you really 
wanted it, should I not give it you ? How much more shall 
your heavenly Father,^ &c. 

'' As to a good education^ in the sense in which the term is 
often used, I had rather my daughters, or grand-daughters, 
should know nothing more than to read and write, and do plain 
work, than send them, (even if others would bear the expense,) 
to those seminaj-ies of frivolity, vanity, and vice, in which such 
a good education is obtained. If brought up in the fear of God, 
and in useful knowledge, without affecting any thing superior, 
or genteel, ....they will, at least, be creditable and respectable.... 
The good education,^ so called, cannot be had without habits, 
connexions, associations of ideas, &>c.3 unfitting them for ob- 
scure (lt>mestic life 



" I am a great friend to men's doing all as well as they possi- 
bly can ; but an enemy to ministers' being swallowed up in the 
employment of schoolmasters." 

In the same strain he writes, January 26, 1809. — " In the 
path of duty you may safely trust the Lord for a suitable pro- 
vision, however probabilities may appear ; as my experience 

for many years abundantly proves While I do not materially 

object to your idea, that, if fairly in your power, it might be 
proper to make some provision for your family, I would exhort 
you, by all means, to watch against all anxiety, about either 
the present or the future respecting them. Diligence, frugality, 
prudence, are duties ; but events are in the hands of God. 
The wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just. God can 
provide for your children without you, you cannot without 
him.'^ 

The following short sentence, in a letter of February 12, 
1812, still manifests his supreme regard for the great concern, 
and indifference to temporal interests in comparison with it. 
'^ The grand mischief of guardians is, that even pious persons 
are so apt to consult the secular advantage of their wards, in 
preference to their spiritual good." 

The following counsel to his youngest son, then on the eve 
of marriage, October 5, 1811, is such as it would have been 
for the happiness of thousands to have duly regarded. It is not 
necessary in order to the comfort or respectability of a clergy- 
man, to raise his income to the level of a large expenditure ; 
but it is necessary to his comfort, his independence, and his 
usefulness, to keep down his expenses within the limits of his 
resources. 

" Next to the great concerns of religion, nothing can be 
more important than frugality, in your present situation and 
prospects, both to your comfort, respectability, and usefulness. 
If your launch be too splendid, you will be expected to keep it 
up : but a modest frugal appearance will damp such expecta- 
tions, and make your future progress more easy and unobstruct- 
ed : and you must not think that mean., which is your duty, 
and as much as you can well afford.— May the Almighty God 
our Saviour bless you in your soul and in your ministry ! May 
his blessing be abundantly on you, and on your intended wife, 
and on all your undertakings !" 

III. On the death of children and near friends — with proofs 
of his tenderness and sympathy. 

The following was written upon the supposition of the death 
of my second daughter. 

^'' March 15, 1805. Wevrere all much affected at the un- 



expected account of poor Fanny's very dangerous disorder, 
for we had hoped that, by proper means, her cold would soon 
have been removed ; and we very sincerely sympathize with 
you. Whatever they may suppose, who never experienced it, 
few things, at the time, more pain the heart, than the loss of a 
child, even when young ; and especially at the time when a 
thousand little circumstances render it more and more interest- 
ing. This I know by experience : yet, after a time, the very 
events, which filled my heart with anguish for a season, were 
looked back upon with a kind of melancholy pleasure. And, 
when I consider what a dangerous world we live in, I can al- 
most rejoice to think, that three of my children arrived, as I 
fully trust, at the place of rest, without encountering the perils 
and tempests of the passage. My prayer used to be, as the re- 
sult of my deliberate judgment, though not of my feelings, that 
if the Lord had any thing for my children to do, they might be 
spared ; but that they might not live to be the servants of sin, 
and to treasure up wrath : and \ trust this prayer has been, or will 
be, fully answered. — You remember to have heard me tell of 
the time, when you were the only survivor of three children, 
and were dangerously ill of the same fever of which your sister 
had died ; how my heart was almost broken : but I am per- 
suaded this time of distress was peculiarly useful to me ; and I 
often look back to it with admiring gratitude, when I reflect on 
the answer to my many prayers, which, with many tears, I then 
offered for you. And I doubt not that you will hereafter look 
back on your present trial, sharp as it is, in the same manner. — 
Really believing that every human being will exist to eternal 
ages, and that the children, at least of believers, dying before they 
are capable of committing actual sin, have the benefit of the 
new covenant ; I consider the circumstance of being instru- 
mental to the existence of those, who shall be eternally happy, 
as a high privilege and favour ; even though they be speedily 
taken from us : and I look forward, sometimes, with pleasure 
to the period, when I hope to meet again those who were 
early taken from me, as well as to be followed by those that 
survive me. 

" A variety of circumstances are often permitted to increase 
the anguish of our feehngs on such occasions : and especially 
the reflection on something, that even we or others have done 
wrong, which proves the occasion of the affliction. But, though 
we may have reason to blame the misconduct of others, or to 
regret any mistake we may suppose that we have made, — and 
hence may learn something useful for the future ; yet the hand 
of God should be viewed even in those events, which take place 



1801 — 1813.] LETTERS. 249 

by the folly and faults of men : and he has wise, righteous, 
faithful, and gracious reasons for what he did, and for what he 
permitted. 

'^ It is not to be expected that parents should not feel and 
grieve much, on these occasions ; and indeed the very end oi 
the providential dispensation would fail of being answered, if 
they did not : but I would reniind your wife, especially, that 
grief ought no more to be indulged than any other of our pas- 
sions ; though many think, tliat being inconsolable at the loss 
of beloved relatives is amiable, who would be shocked at the 
idea of indulging many other passions. Every thing in our 
nature wants regulating, moderating, and subordinating to the 
will of God ; and natural affection as well as the rest. Seve- 
ral particulars, in which faith and submission to God greatly 
consist on earth, will have no place in heaven. Of this kind is 
patience under sharp afflictions. This is very honourable to 
God, edifying to our brethren, and profitable to ourselves : but 
without sharp affliction we should have no opportunity of ex- 
ercising it. This is, then, an opportunity given you of experi- 
encing and manifesting the power and excellency of your prin- 
ciples ; which may eventually be of great importance in vari- 
ous ways. — In reading of our Lord's miracles, the reflection 
often occurs to me ; would not those who endured the sharpest 
sorrows, (Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, for instance,) with the 
full view of all the honour to Christ, and all the good to man- 
kind, which arose, and still arises, and shall forever arise, from 
their exquisite anguish of heart ; have been willing to go 
through the whole again, if again such vast advantages might 
result from it ? At least, they would not on any account, have 
escaped suffering what they did, now that they see all the rea- 
sons why they suffered. Yet, at the tim.e, they had no idea of 
the ends to be answered by their distresses : and the same wis- 
dom and love order our troubles, both as to the nature and the 
result of them, which ordered theirs. What I do thou knowest 
not notL\ but thou shalt know hereafter. — All these things are 
against me! But what does Jacob now think of these trans- 
actions ? 

'*'- All this, however, you know, and, I trust, remember. — I 
would also hint that you should be careful not too much to in- 
dulge the fond remembrance of endearing circumstances ; for 
this feeds a kind and degree of grief, not consistent with sub- 
mission to the will of God, — If I may judge by myself, you will 
find this dispensation, in the event, greatly subservient in help- 
ing you to realize an unseen world, and in exciting earnest- 
ness in prayer. As a minister, you will often have occasion 
to counsel and comfort others in similar circumstances ; and you 



250 LETTERS. [chap. XIV. 

will do this both with more feeling and more influence, as having 
experienced the painful trial yourself. Perhaps many trials 
are allotted us on this very account : (2 Cor. i. 4 — 6 :) and this 
suggests an important plea, in prayer, for wisdom and grace to 
bear and improve the trial in a proper manner. — We are apt to 
say of this or the other creatures. This same shall comfort us : 
and thus the gifts of our God insensibly draw our hearts from 
him ; and then it becomes necessary, almost, from him to wither 
our gourds. He does so in love ; and we shall know, at length, 
that we have cause to be thankful. — When I thmjc of the man- 
ner in which Aaron lost his two sons, Nadab and Abihu, (Lev. 
X :) and David, his Amnon and Absalom ; and of many other 
instances of this kind ; I am ready to say. How hght, compa- 
ratively, would the trial have been, had they lost them when 
infants ! And yet they would have felt, in that case, the same 
things that you nov*^ do. 

^' 1 have written a great deal, of what, in some cases, might 
be called common-place ; and, not being very well, I seem to 
have little energy in writing : but, in affliction, a hint suggested 
to memory is often welcome and useful. I shall only add that, 
if Frances should give way to grief, so as not to take proper 
care of her health, she would show love where it must be use- 
less, and fail in it where it may be essentially beneficial ; as 
well as in submission to God. — I write on the supposition that 
the dear child either is gone, or will not recover : but perhaps 
the Lord may have heard prayer for her recovery." 

Some other short extracts may show the warmth of his affec- 
tion not only to his grand-children, who were the immediate 
objects of them, but towards !<ome whom he had long since 
lost, but never ceased to remember with tenderness. 

^^ July 28, 1805. I feel for my poor dear Jane, who, I sup- 
pose, hardly remembers me : but her name^'' (she was called 
after her grand-mother,) " and every thing, makes me feel ten- 
derly for her." 

^'^ January 1 1, 1807. As I am rather dry in my manner, I do 
not know whether you were aware how much was my fa- 
vourite, when I was at Hull. The account of her sickness and 
suffering, and all respecting her, affected me more than you 
would probably suppose : and the thoughts of my ever dear 
Anne came into my mind, with a force that 1 have not felt for 
some years. — Well, I began to be comforted under the idea, 

that, if poor should be taken from you and us, the Lord 

would prepare her, or was preparing her, for a happier world. 
But other things followed which more deeply affected me. 
However, after all, I hope that God will hear prayer, and spare 
the dear child ; and spare her for good : and overrule the wiiole 



1801—1813.] LETTERS. 251 

for good to you all, old and young. I am sure our prayers are 
not wanting." 

When the distance, to which some of us were removed from 
him was complained of, he wrote as follows. 

" I am sure I regret as much as you can do the distance at 
which we are placed ; yet ye must not let this consideration 
have undue weight. I do love to be with my children, and to 
have them about me ; but every one has his place, and ought 
to have ; and all our feelings must be submitted to the will of 
God. 

"I endeavour to consider the case of those, whose children are 
missionaries in distant lands ; nay, of those, whose children, 
from worldly motives, are far removed from them. Each seem 
to think, that if their beloved relatives are doing well, though far 
off, all is well. We must be the salt and light of the world, 
and be scattered for that purpose. Let us then submit to God, 
and give the more diligence that we may meet in heaven with 
exceeding joy. St. Paul greatly desired to see Timothy, being 
mindful of his tears., that he might he filled with joy : yet, at 
the call of duty they must separate. The elders of Ephesus 
sorrowed most of all that they must see his face no more : yet. 
they must part ; and, no doubt, after a time they had a blessed 
meeting, when their tears were turned into joy. ^^ 

In these extracts he speaks for himself: in the following, an- 
other speaks of him. 

" June 12, 1809. Yesterday your dear father preached two 
capital sermons on Psalm cxix. 32, and Mark x. 13, 14 ; the 
last of which was on the occasion of T. H. having his two 
youngest children baptized. I think I hardly ever heard him 
so eloquent and pathetic. Among other things, he mentioned 
his own children and grand-children, with tears in his eyes, in 
such a manner as brought, I believe, tears into the eyes of se- 
veral others. The picture he drew of Christ, ^ lifting up his 
holy hands, and blessing the young children,' Vv^ould really have 
been a fine subject for a painter." 

To his friend in Northumberland he again wrote, November 
20, 1808. 

'^ Dear Mrs. R , If I had not a most clear and full ex- 
cuse, my conduct in not writing to you would be exceedingly 
blameable : but I am so engaged with my publications, with let- 
ters of business thus rendered unavoidable, with instructing 
missionaries placed under my care, and with my ministerial 
employments ; that lam compelled to decline all correspond- 
ence which is not absolutely necessary. It must also be remem- 
bered that I am growing old, (almost sixty-two,) and never 



^52 LETTERS. [chap. XIV. 

was very healthy : and I can assure you that I am weary every 
night at bed-time, as much as any poor labourer. Yet, bless 
God, my health is not much worse than when you were with 
me, bating mfirmities of old age : and I go on preaching as of- 
ten, as long, and as loud, perhaps, as formerly, and with great 
encouragement in this obscure place. 

'-'• 1 wish 1 was like St. Paul, who could say, always inetnery 
jfrayer of mine for you all^ making request with joy : but I 
hope i do not quite forget you and your's. 1 feel gratified by 
your letter : it calls to my mind what always refreshes it, the 
scenes which took place when you were with us : and I hope 
and trust that he who, (as I then most confidently beheved, and 
still do,) began a good work in you^ will perform it till the day 
of Christ, 1 am rejoiced to hear that any of your children are 
walking in the Lord's ways : and I would encourage your hope 
of the others. Only give them good instructions ; exercise 
parental autnority with firmness, as well as kindness, by re- 
proofs and corrections when necessary, &c. ; set before them 
sedulously an edifying example ; and pray for them continually 
and fervently ; then wait, and hope, and acquiesce in the will 
of God : and even those who now seem less promising will per- 
haps become your comfort. What you mention of your sister 
is also very pleasant to me ; and were it practicable, I should 
be glad to see and converse with you both, but I suppose we 
shall not meet, till we meet, as I hope, in heaven. 

^' I would not, however, discourage your writing. I am 
drawing near the close of my work, on which I have spent ten 
years ; and after that I may be more at liberty to answer your 
letters. At present I must conclude. Mrs. S. and my daugh- 
ter are well, (or, as well as usual,) and unite in respects and 
good wishes. May the Almighty God, the God and Father of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, shower down all blessings, especially 
spiritual blessings, abundantly, on you, your husband, your chil- 
dren, your brother,, &lc. : this is the sincere prayer of your 
faithful friend and servant in Christ, Thomas Scott." 

In October, 1 809, my father lost his esteemed friend and 
patron, Mr. Barber. I have great pleasure in being allowed to 
insert his letter to Mrs. Barber on this occasion, both for its 
own excellence, from the regard justly due to the family, and 
because of the happy impression which it appears to have made 
on the minds^of those immediately concerned in it. The read- 
er, I persuade myself, would wish to see it entire, though it may 
repeat some thoughts contained in a letter recently inserted. 

''October 8, 1809. My dear madam, The event made 
known to me by Mr. R 's letter, though melancholy, was 



I 



1801 — I813.J LETTERS. 25:> 

by no means unexpected. In general, I am reluctant to in- 
trude on mourners during the first paroxysms of grief: but I 
feel such a special interest in you, and all your concerns, that I 
cannot delay to express how sincerely I sympathise with you. 
I know you must grieve, both for your own heavy loss, and for 
that of your dear children, and of many others. I would only 
wish to drop a hint or two towards alleviating and regulating your 
sorrows, that you may not grieve as one without kope^ for him 
who, I trust, sleeps in Jesus. — While the excellency of the hus- 
band and father, of whom you and your children have been be- 
reaved, enhances the greatness of your loss, it infuses the sweet- 
est ingredients into the bitter cup. You have no call to lament, 
as David over wicked Absalom, and many a parent, or wife, 
or child, over one, concerning whom there is no hope^ or scarce- 
ly any, as to the infinite concerns of eternity. You have 
grounds for rejoicing amidst your tears : your loss is the im- 
mense gain of him, whom you most love : and surely, would a 
wish or prayer do it, you would not bring him back into this 
sorrowful world — especially in the afflicted state, in which he 
had long continued. — You will meet again, to part no more : 
and many blessings are in store for you and yours, in answer 
to the prayers he had long ofiTered for you. 

" Your dearest earthly friend is taken away : but the Lord 
Uveth from everlasting to everlasting. The event, which you 
must deplore, (nature dictates, and reason and revelation sanc- 
tion your doing so,) is, beyond all doubt, the result of wise love 
to you, as certainly as Joseph's being sold into Egypt was the 
result of wise love to Jacob and his family. What I do thmi 
knowest not now ; hut thou shalt know hereafter, — I am o; opi- 
nion that, if the greatest sufferer, among those who have been 
eventually saved, could have known all the good effects of his 
sufferings, to himself and others, and the glory redounding to 
God by means of them ; he would have willingly and thank- 
fully received his bitterest cup ; — even as Jesus, for the joy 
that was set before him^ endured the cross, I can conceive of 
Bartimeus, in heaven, blessing God for his blindness ; Martha 
and Mary for the death of Lazarus ; Lazarus, for being 
called to pass through death twice : and why should you not 
have to bless God for this present painful dispensation ? We 
kno7v that all things work together for good to them that love God. 
— Your good sense and your acquaintance with the Scriptures, 
cannot fail of suggesting to you, that indulging grief how- 
ever admired in the world, is, in itself, as wrong as indulging 
anger or any other passion. You cannot but grieve enough, 
mihowi feeding what should be counteracted. While the child 



254 LETTERS. [chap. XiV. 

livedo I fasted and wept, &lc, 2 Samuel xii. 19~ 23. — The will 
of God is now known : though painful, you must feel it right to 
submit, and to say. The Lord gave^ and the Lord hath taken 
away ; blessed he the name of the Lord : and, however great 
the loss, the all-sufficient God can make it up. 

'^ I am far from regretting, or thinking it an addition to your 
sorrow, that you are left with seven children. Under God, 
they will be an alleviation of it. Leave thy fatherless children 
with me, / will preserve the??! alive ; and let thy widows trust in 
me. — My dear friend, a most important duty, now more impor- 
tant than ever, devolves upon you ; I am fully persuaded, from 
your past conduct, a duty delightful to you in itself. Now, in- 
deed, for a time, the delight will be mingled with t^ars ; but 
the importance of the duty is proportionabiy increased : and I 
cannot doubt, that the sorrow will decrease, and the joy in- 
crease, as you proceed. For the sake of your dear children, in 
addition to higher motives, watch and pray against excessive 
sorrow, and against any expressions of it by solitude, or omit- 
ting the proper care of your health and spirits ; which might 
unfit you for your charge. Think thus : ' The whole devolves 
now on me : let me not yield to heartless despondency. 1 he 
souls of my children, and children's children, and the welfare 
of numbers by their means, are now at stake.' 

" Perhaps I have entered too much into detail : but I write 
as to one of my own children ; and you will excuse me. I 
trust many here are praying for you and yours. I cannot but 
hope, that there are far more than a hundred souls, perhaps 
two or three hundred, that will bless God for ever, that the 
living of Aston ever came into your family. I hope many pray 
heartily to God for support, and comfort, and every blessing on 

you and yours May the God and Father of our Lord 

Jesus be your support and comforter, and bless you and your 
children ! — Yours sincerely, T. Scott." 

It is an additional delightful consideration to me, to think 
how much the good anticipations of this letter have been al- 
ready realized. 

IV. Miscellaneous. 

^^ January 11, 1807. I know not how you have found it, but 
in many instances I have observed, that things, which, at the 
moment, seemed so pertinent and conclusive, that they ought 
to be said, have afterward appeared to me far too sharp, and 
had better have been withheld. I now never write on any 
thing which involves dispute, (if I can help it,) without laying 
the letter by a day or two, and then revising it." 

''April 14, 1811. 1 like much Mr. 's sermon on 



1801 1813.] LETTERS. 255 

but nothing of defect is admitted : it is too unqualified 



praise : it tends to make me despond ; and it led me to say, 
Some persons will ere long tell lies about me also. I admire 
Mr. Milner's plan about Mr. Howard : state debtor and credi- 
tor. If we have any thing good about us, there is a set off; 
and it is best that it should be in some measure stated." 

I must confess, that the rule laid down, in the closing sen- 
tence, unless its restriction be pretty strongly taken, appears to 
me to impose rather an awkward task on the preacher of a fu- 
neral sermon. To go much beyond a general acknowledgment 
of the imperfection incident to human nature, except in some 
very particular instances, would seem to be ungracious and un- 
seasonable on such an occasion : and I have sometimes doubted 
whether scriptural usage requires more. In giving the history^ 
in writing the lives of good men, Scripture certainly relates the 
faulty, as well as the praiseworthy parts of their conduct. 
Yet, in summing up the characters of upright men, even such 
as had been chargeable with considerable evils, it is remarkable 
how much it assumes the language of general approbation and 
praise. And it may be thought, perhaps, that this comes near- 
er to the case of a funeral sermon, in all such instances as are 
proper for sermons of that kind. 

The following brief observations on books may not be with- 
out their use. 

" December 2, 1804. By the way, Robertson's Thesaurus 
is a most valuable repository of critical and theological matter, 
to the patient inquirer ; bringing together, in one view, every 
passage where the word in question is used, and quoting the 
best criticisms upon it." 

" April 7, 1808. I have got Graves' Lectures on the Pen- 
tateuch, and, as far as I have read, am much pleased. I find 
original remarks ; and this is what I want. I am sorry to per- 
ceive him so unacquainted with evangelical truth, — Macknight 
on the Epistles is not of great use. He is a verbose and round- 
about writer. I find in him also thins^s original : that is, he 
seems to have known all that the apostles, and his friends, and 
his enemies, said and did ; when there is not a word on record. 
He is wise above what is written^ in the strangest and most po- 
sitive manner I have ever seen ; and on these airy dreams builds 
systematical expositions quite new to me." 

In a letter of June 3, 1807, authorizing me to subscribe for 
him towards defraying the expense of Mr. Wilberforce's elec- 
tion, in the great contest for Yorkshire, (though he had, for some 
time, demurred, whether, in the pecuhar situation in which he 
stood, it would be proper for him to do it,) he says : '' In every 



256 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV* 

company, I maintain the propriety of Mr. W.'s standing the 
contest and of others coming forward to defray the expense. 
If this be not done, the independence of a large county is, by 
the very circumstance of its largeness, as effectually given up, 
as that of a rotten borough. But the cause of Mr. W. is the 
cause of justice, humanity, and piety, as well as of Britain. I 
feel a sort of self-congratulation at present, that above twenty 
years ago, I withstood, with all my energy, Mr. 's coun- 
sel, who advised Mr. W. to retire from public life.. Had that 
counsel been followed, the slave trade might have been con- 
tinned to future generations." 

January 20, 1812, he thus speaks of his own memoir of him- 
self '^ I am now, as able, employed in drawing up a brief 
account of the former years of my life, which, for the time, a 
good deal affects me with the sense of the Lord's goodness, in 
leading me when blind^ and most wicked, by a way that I knew 
not, I have written about two sheets, and am come to the 
eve of my ordination : after which I shall be very brief. I 
shall leave it with my survivors, to be employed as they see 
good." 



CHAPTER XV. 

FKOM THE FINAL DISPOSAL OF HIS COMMENTARY TO HIS LAST 

ILLNESS. 

When my father contracted with the present proprietors of 
his Commentary, to sell them all the remaining copies, and to 
convey to them the copy-right of the work, it was in the full 
expectation that he should be enabled to pay off the debts which 
he had incurred, and to disencumber himself of the embarrass- 
ments, under which he had so long laboured, on account of his 
publications. Thus he expressed himself in announcing the 
event ; '-^ I have been struggling hard for many years, and have 
now brought matters to that state, that I can dispose of the 
whole. What I am to receive, with what my bookseller will 
owe me, will nearly cover all my debts : and it is high time, 
that, on the one hand, my borrowed money should be paid off, 
and, on the other, that I should disembarrass myself of worldly 
cares, and set my house in order, that I may be ready when 
my summons comes." And, though some delays and disap- 
pointments took place, he continued to entertain this expecta- 
tion, and even to hope that he should be found possessed of 
some moderate portion of property, till the latter end of the 



1813 1821.] TO UIS LAST ILLNESS. 257 

year 1813. But^ at that period, on -winding up his account 
with his bookseller and others, he found, to his utter astonish- 
ment, and with a greater degree of disquietude, than he had, 
perhaps, ever before felt on such a subject, that he was still de- 
ficient more than 1200Z., which he had Uttle else to defray, than 
printed paper, which appeared to be almost unsaleable. Thi^ 
was principally owing to great quantities of his books, espe- 
cially the works in five volumes, being now discovered in the 
printer's warehouses, and brought to account, which were be- 
fore considered as sold. He mentions in a letter, that eight 
hundred and six volumes were thus brought forward in one ar- 
ticle. This was not only a grievous disappointment, as present- 
ing him with apparently useless paper, instead of ready money, 
but, as it, in great measure, frustrated his hopes for the future. 
He had calculated that his minor works were selling to the 
amount of 2501, or 3001. annually ; but it now appeared that 
the sale was not exceeding lOOZ. a year ; which made a mate- 
rial difference in the prospect before him. 

This discovery exceedingly disconcerted and distressed him, 
especially as he charged himself with actual, though uncon- 
scious injustice, in disposing, in various ways, on the ground of 
the erroneous calculation of his property, of sums, which now 
turned out not to be his own : and, amidst increasing infirmi- 
ties and disabilities, he began to forbode dying insolvent, and 
thus, perhaps, leaving a stigma upon his character and profession. 

Under these painful impressions, he wrote to the different 
branches of his family in November, 1813. ^' I sit down to 
write to you on a painful subject, and, perhaps, with a heavier 
heart than I ever did before." ^^ To my utter astonishment, 
and overwhelming almost, I find that I am above 350Z. minus 

with ," instead of having some hundred pounds to receive ! 

'• Under wrong ideas of being able to afford it, I have been dis- 
posing of money, which now, to my great distress, I find was 
not my own." " But the most distressing fact is this, thai 
scarcely any thing of my printed paper sells ; and, as my whole 
property, except my furniture, consists of it, I find myself pre- 
cluded from paying my debts, unless some other methods can 
be adopted." — And again, " My state of health, also, and the 
improbabiHty of my teaching the missionaries much longer, or 
doing without a curate, compared with the scantiness of my 
income, apart from my debts, is trying to faith and patience ; 
especially, as, 1 believe, my friends in general, think me well 
provided for, and, therefore, give me no help." ''Except! 
can look to God, my prospect is dreary : my infirm health also 
concurs in depressing my spirits. — But, though sometimes dis- 
heartened, I rise again above it." 



258 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

It may be observed, that the letters, from which these extracts 
are taken, were written only two days previously to the very 
striking one, formerly given on the instruction of the missiona- 
ries. They sufficiently explain the ^^ strong reason" he had 
" for not at present giving up that service, if he could help it :'^ 
ihough it will be remembered, he adds, '^ If, however, a perma> 
nent seminary can be founded, I shall not suffer any personal 
concern of mine to interfere, and, indeed, shall greatly rejoice 
in it." 

I have put the reader in possession of this whole case, though 
it is rather painful to detail it, because, taken in connexion 
with its issue, I have thought it due to those, who would en- 
deavour to act upon my father's disinterested and devoted prin- 
ciples, to do so : due, also, to the rehgious public, and to several 
zealous, though some of them unknown friends, who took the 
most lively interest in his circumstances, as soon as they became 
acquainted with them : and due, I must add, to the estimation 
in which, far beyond his own apprehensions, he appeared to be 
held, '' for his work's sake," and for the manner in which he 
had unreservedly given himself to it. 

In these letters my father had observed, that he thought he 
had ^^ some claim upon the religious public ;" and the way in 
which he proposed to avail himself of it was, merely soliciting 
his friends, by a private circular, to find him purchasers for his 
" Theological Works," w^hich he was willing, in this way, to 
dispose of at a reduced price. '^ Could I turn three or four 
hundred copies of the Works into money," he says, '^ it would 
set me at liberty." This was accordingly the plan adopted. 
The printing of this collection of his works, he considered as 
'-^ the most imprudent part of his whole concern in that iine,'^ 
and as having ^' involved him almost inextricably :" but it now 
proved the means of relieving him effectually, and beyond his 
most sanguine expectations. 

The first person to whom his difficulties, and his proposed 
means of extricating himself were made known, was the Rev. 
Charles Simeon, of King's College, Cambridge : and such were 
the prompt and vigorous exertions of that zealous friend, and 
excellent man, that, had they been immediately known to my 
father, they might probably have prevented his issuing his cir- 
culars in any other quarter. On Monday, December 20, at a 
time when his spirits were sunk unusually low, he received 
from Mr. S. a letter, of which I shall take the hberty of com- 
municating such part as is in my possession. 

" My dear friend. Never was a more delightful office com- 
mitted to me, than that which I have to execute at this time. 
Your visit to Cambridge was a blessing to many, who are anx- 



1813 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 259 

ious to testify towards you their respect and love, and who 
earnestly request your acceptance of a few hundred pounds, 
which they have desired me to remit you in their name, and in 
the name of some others, who have been benefitted by your 
writings. The amount I have comprehended in a bill, 6z.c. &c. 
Greatly rejoicing in an event so expressive of their love to 
Christ, and the veneration they feel for your character, I am 
most affectionately yours, C. Simeon." 

The remittance comprehended " 590Z., a present, besides a 
considerable sum for books !" 

Another friend, who was on the spot at the time, says, 
^^ The interest taken in his concerns by our Cambridge friends, 
and the delicacy and affection with which the whole business 
was conducted, will never be forgotten by me " 

But it was not only at Cambridge that the intimation, that 
my father stood in need of some assistance, was met by so 
prompt a disposition to afford it : the same was the case in va- 
rious other places, in some of which he was personally unknown. 
Bristol, York, and Dublin, deserve particularly to be specified : 
and in the first of these cities it is no more than is due to men- 
tion the name of Isaac Cooke, Esq. The munificent friend of 
Mr. Cecil showed himself no less the munificent friend of Mr. 
Scott, when the occasion called for it, though the latter had but 
the slightest acquaintance with him. 

But what was done on this occasion, and in what manner it 
was received, will be best learned from a few extracts of my fa- 
ther's letters, written at the time. 

To myself he wrote, Dec. 22, 1813 : '^ You will doubtless be 
astonished at the contents of this letter. The letter which I 
wrote to Mr. , for Mr. Simeon to see, from some circum- 
stances seemed likely to produce me a few subscribers ; and I 
expected little more .... Had I received Mr. S.'s letter before 
I began issuing my circulars, I should have paused ; but many 

were previously sent. I had only one hundred printed i 

was low last week ; but not so much about my aftairs, as that I 
had written so fully to , who, I thought, would much cen- 
sure me ; and, because I could not, on a review of many past 
years, but deeply condemn many things in myself. And, when 
I received Mr. Simeon's letter and the bill for so large a sum, 
I was at first so overwhelmed with shame at my own unbelief 
and distrust, that I felt lower than ever. But I hope the Lord's 
goodness, and the kindness of unexpected friends, will shame 
lis both and aZZ, out of distrust and unbelief. I have not been 
• too disinterested,' &.c." 

To his second son, January 17, 1814 : ''I have received iu 
all from different quarters, and from those of whom I had never 



260 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

heard the name quite enough to pay all my debts : and, 

as I have reason to think, that most, if not all, the copies of the 
works will be disposed of, 1 now have all and abound; except 
that I want more thankfulness to God and man. I have even 
dechned some offers made me 1 hope mine will be con- 
sidered as an adjudged case^ to encourage faith in God's provi- 
dence, in those who are employed in his work." 

To myself, agam, February 14, 1814 : "I really expected, 
at first, little more than to dispose of two or three hundred co- 
pies of the works, and 1 never intimated a desire of farther 
help than in that way. You have heard what I received from 
Mr. S. . . . Since then money has been sent me, with the most 
cordial, respectful letters, from persons of whom I never heard . 
among the rest, 2\}l, from a quaker. Offers wore made of 
raising more, if I desired it ; which I dechned. Probably all 
the copies of the works will be sold. I do not now owe any 
thing which I cannot pay on demand — what I never could say 
since you were born 1 and i have something in hand ; and 
shall receive more, besides the works. So you see that, if I 
have too httle regarded such matters, while my need was not 
urgent, when it is, how easily the Lord can do more for me, 
than all my plans could have done in a course of years ; and 
in a manner which tends to oiake my publications more known 
and circulated ; and, I verily believe, without in any degree 
deducting from my character. Oh that this may make me 
ashamed of all my distrust and dejection ! and that it may en- 
courage you and many others, to go on in the work of the Lord, 
without anxiety on this ground ? Serve him by the day^ amd 
trust him by the day : never flinch a service because nothing is 
paid for it : and when you want it in reality, you or yours, he 
will pay it. David Brown did much gratis in India : the East 
India Company raised a monument for the old bachelor Swartz : 
but they made provision for Mr. B.'s large family!.... 

'' Among other things, I received a most friendly letter from 
Mr. Richardson, inquiring into my circumstances, of which 
friends at York had received some report. I stated, that I had 
all and abounded^ and did not wish to trouble my friends far- 
ther, except as subscribers to the works. But I, next letter, re- 
ceived 115Z. as a present! — I have had 360Z. from Bristol, 
where I thought my rudeness had given offence : besides or- 
ders for a hundred copies of the works !" 

Another letter to my brother, ten days afterward, states thai 
Mr. Cooke had remitted 2001. more from Bristol ! and my fa- 
ther adds in a postscript. 

"February 25, 1814. I have received at least 20001. as 
presents in little more than two months, besides the sale of 



1813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 261 

books 1 ! You see how easily God can provide. Trust in the 
Lord ; and do good : dwell in the land^ and verily thou shalt he 
fed. You cannot do a better service to the world, than by be- 
queathing to it a well-educated family. Let this be your care, 
the rest will be the Lord's." 

The letter above referred to, to the late Mr. Richardson is 
now before nne. It adds nothing, in point of information, to 
the facts already stated : yet it will furnish an extract or two, 
which will not be uninteresting. It is dated January 14, 1814, 
and begins as follows : — ''^ Your very friendly and pleasing let- 
ter found me ill in bed, of a fever, occasioned, I believe, by the 
severity of the weather. It has confined me a week to my 
room, and most of the time to my bed : but is, through the mer- 
cy of our God, now gone off; though it leaves me extremely 
weak. This has no connexion with my local malady, which 
does not, at present, effect my general health, nor greatly 
interrupt my labours at home, though it makes them much more 
uneasy and wearying. It seems at a stand : but cure must not 
be expected. ... 

" It is not agreeable to our proud hearts to become, in any 
way or manner, beggars : but my relief has been sent on such 
a general hint, and with such soothing tokens of respect and 
affection, as more than compensate all : and I only want, to 
crown the whole, a heart deeply and humbly thankful to 
God, and to those into whose hearts he has put it thus to help 
me 

" Next month I enter my sixty-eighth year : but I have al- 
ways had a bad constitution, and seldom a year without fevers, 
(often dangerous ;) besides asthma and other complaints : so 
that I am a wonder to myself. — Suffering and weariness must 
be my portion here : but I hope that my strength will be equal 
to my day, my consolation to my tribulation. We shall not 
meet on earth : but it will not be long, I trust, before we meet 
in heaven ; and Xheu^ face to face,, and not hy pen and ink,, I 
will speak with thee.^ In the mean time, let us pray for each 
other ; let us enter into the spirit of my new year's text, Eccles. 
ix. 10, Whatsoev)er thy hand^ Sfc. ; and let us bless God, that 
w^e leave the state of religion in Britain, and on earth, more pro- 
mising than we found it. Praying that this dawn may shine 
more and more until the glorious day of the millennium, I am 
your faithful friend and brother, Thos. Scott." 

We now proceed to detail the history of the remaining years 
of my father's labours. They will be found, perhaps, more 

* Mr. Richardi-on died one month after mv father. 



262 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [cHAP. XV. 

bare of incident than those which preceded them. He was 
during the whole time a prisoner in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of his home, and amost entirely within his own village. 
The main point, in addition to giving an account of the pro- 
ductions of his pen, will be to display the temper of his mind, 
and the spirit by which he was actuated ; which acquire an in- 
creasing interest as we approach his latter end, and see them 
still sustained, or rather raised yet higher, amidst daily accumu- 
lating infirmities. 

In the early part of the year 1814, we find him turning his 
attention, and with all his wonted vigour, to a subject which was, 
in a £freat measure, new to him, the question between Jews and 
Christians. This was in consequence, as he tells us in the 
preface to the work which he afterward published upon it, of a 
copy of Rabbi Crooll's '•'• Restoration of Israel," being forward- 
ed to him by the Committee of the Society for proriioting Chris- 
tianity among the Jews, '•'• with a request that he would answer 
it." He understood '-' the same to have been done to a few 
other persons," and ''• being fully engaged at the time," he, after 
looking slightly into the book, laid it aside, feeling '''' not at all 
inclined to undertake the service." '•'' But being somewhat 
less engaged at the beginning of the following year," (1814,) 
he again took up the copy and read it more attentively ; purpo- 
sing, if not too late, to make some short remarks on particular pas- 
sages, and communicate them to any one, who, he should learn, 
was preparing an answer. In attempting this, however, the 
whole concern appeared to him m a new light ; and he percei- 
ved, that, by this work, an opening was given to the zealous 
friends of Christianity, and cordial friends of the Jews, to 
bring the whole subject in controversy, between Christians and 
Jews, before the public and the nation of Israel. The conse- 
quence was, the production, within the year, of an octavo vo- 
lume, containing CrooH's work, and an answer ta it, in which 
all the principal points at issue are discussed. 

Some observations relative to this work may deserve to be 
extracted from his correspondence while employed upon it. 

'^February 14, 1814. I am deeply engaged in the contro- 
versy between Jews and Christians, and in answering a book 
by R. Crooll, Hebrew teacher at Cambridge. It is my object to 
draw forth the^ Jews from their lurking holes to fair argument : 
and 1 mean to discuss every important question concerning 
the Messiah of the Old Testament, on the ground of the 
Old Testament only. I think I shall bring forth much origi- 
nal matter on many topics. I shall, at least, furnish materials 
to future workmen — I have in contemplation, also, to condense 



!813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 263 

the remarks on the '• Refutation of Calvinism" into one volume, 
stating the argument briefly, without extraneous matter." 

This was at a time when he had been confined '^ five Sundays 
from church, three by sickness, and two by the w-eather." 
-' Nothing like this winter," he remarks, '-'• has occurred for 
almost fifty years." 

April 7, he writes, '-'• I think I know the general plan or idea 
of Limborch, respecting the Jews — that the more offensive pe- 
culiarities of Christianity are to be kept out of sight ; and the 
grand question of Jesiis being the Messiah, first considered. I 
thought somew^hat in the same w^ay once : but the peculiarities 
of Christianity are evidently the grand objections of modern 
Jews. Their Socinianism. so to speak, is prominent in all their 
objections ; and it is vain to discuss previous questions : the 
whole must be proved from the Old Testament, or nothing is 
done. But they are so uninformed, that every argument or 
statement w^ill be new to them, if it be possibk to get them to 
read, and consider, and try to answer. This I am attempting, 
■^vith all the gentleness and benevolence I can : and I get new 
light myself on every topic." 

"June 27, 1814. I have completed, nearly ready for the 
press, my book respecting the Jews. It must be original to 
many readers, for a great part of it is so to me : and I have, in 
many things, almost new view^s of the doctrine of the Old Tes- 
tament in these respects. — The contrast between the triumphs 
of Jesus, and those of Mohammed, is, in my own view, very 
striking. — I should hope the whole would be rather conciliatory 
to the Jews : as it ascribes to them a precedency of honour and 
love, at their restoration, beyond what has been hitherto brought 
forward." 

Though, however, this work, certainly one of no little labour 
and thought, w^as thus nearly completed by the middle of the 
year in u^hich it v/as begun, the preface is not dated till Octo- 
ber ; and, owing to delays, after the manuscript had left the 
author's hand, it was not published till near Midsummer in the 
ensuing year. 

At this period, I find the following brief notice of his state in 
a letter from his daughter, then settled in his immediate neigh- 
bourhood. 

" June 3, 1 8 1 4. It is, indeed, a source of unspeakable satis- 
faction to us, that we are situated so near my dear father, and 
can have so frequently, the pleasure of seeing and hearing him. 
May we but derive all the advantage which his instructions and 
example are so calculated to afford 1 The calmness and 
cheerfulness, with which he supports the almost constant pain 



iaJ4 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

and weariness he suffers, are truly edifying ; and the vigour and 
activity of his mind render his conversation as interesting as 
ever it was." 

This year was marked by the fall of Buonaparte, and the re- 
storation of peace with France. The general joy and exulta- 
tion were, however, most painfully damped, in the breasts of 
all the zealous friends of humanity and of mankind, by that 
clause in the treaty of peace which sanctioned the continuance, 
or rather the revival, of the African Slave Trade, for the period 
of five years ; at the same time that it pronounced it a traffic 
*' repugnant to the principles of natural justice." Along with 
others, my father, for a time, felt his full share of disappointment 
and sadness on the occasion. This continued till the very day 
of the General Thanksgiving, (July 7,) when it found a degree 
of unexpected relief. He thus describes his feehngs in the 
preface to the sermon which he preached, and published under 
the title of ^^ Light Shining out of Darkness ;" " I entered on 
the preparation for the day with unusual dejection, as conscious- 
ly unable to meet the case with adequate encouragements to 
others, or myself to emerge out of most disheartening regret : 
so that 1 looked forward to the service with very painful antici- 
pations. But while thus meditating on the subject, brighter 
views unexpectedly arose in my mind. These views I endea- 
voured to set before my congregation, without the most remote 
idea of publishing them : yet, on subsequent reflection, they 
appeared to me, and some others, so new, and so animatmg, 
on a most gloomy topic, that 1 was led to print them." 

It happened that before I received any intelligence of this 
sermon, I had the opportunity of ascertaining, and communi- 
cating to my father, the views taken of the same subject by the 
late excellent Dr. Buchanan. He too, like one well practised 
in waiting for a desired object, and in regarding apparent dis- 
appointment as one preparative for its accomplishment, was 
looking for ^^ light out of darkness ;" and the sentiments which I 
found him entertaining, remarkably corresponded with those at 
which my father had arrived. From what quarter "light" was 
to break in they little anticipated : and, had they anticipated it, 
that too v/ould have been a source of farther alarm and dis- 
tressing feelings. It was only through the return of the despot, 
who had so long made Europe to tremble, and by means of 
the fresh negotiations which followed his final expulsion, that 
•'the high contracting powers," were brought " each to prohibit, 
without restriction, their colonies, and subjects from taking 
any part whatever in this traffic." Would to God that the 
time might arrive, when the proscription thus announced 
shall actually take effect ; and when cupidity on the one hand, 



1 8 1 3 — 1 82 1 .J X o nlS LAST ILLNESS. 26b 

and lukewarmness on the other, shall no longer set at nought 
the claims of humanity, and the injunctions of our holy reli- 
gion : and conspire to frustrate the enactments of legislatures, 
and the solemn covenants of nations 1 

At this period I visited Aston, and, in returning, saw the other 
branches of the family. On my letter to my father, after my 
arrival at home, he remarks, '^ Your letter gave me much plea- 
sure — which I do not very generally experience, for want of a 
right state of heart. Our mercies and blessings, as a family, 
and as individuals, are great and many : but our feelings at the 
present, either of pain, or of disappointment in smaller concerns, 
too often render us forgetful of them." 

It is natural that a closing chapter, in the history of a long 
life, should have to report the deaths of not a few of the friends 
of him who is the subject of it ; and alas ! events of this kind 
will be found pretty thickly interspersed in the period we are 
considering. 

In October of this year, my father lost his youngest sister 
Mrs. Burgess, of Leicester, and to her daughter, (herself since 
deceased,) whom he did not consider as at that time living un- 
der the power of religion, he wrote in the following faithful and 
affectionate manner, when she announced the event to him. 

" I was just thinking of setting apart a little time for answer- 
ing your former letter, when I received your last, stating, what 
indeed I had expected to hear, the decease of your dear mother. 
Thus the youngest is first removed ! So uncertain is life, and 
so it pleases God to derange all our calculations, even as to the 
probability of its continuance ! My brother, who is thirteen, 
and my sister, who is four years older than I am, and I myself, 
still survive ; and your mother, who was nine years younger, is 
gone 1 May we be ready also, for at v/hat time the hour 
cometh we know not, and cannot know. 

'^ I was glad to hear from Mr. V that he visited your 

mother in her illness ; and for what he said concerning the 
state of her mind. As for me, I could only pray for her ; which 
I trust I did heartily, more than once every day, from the time I 
heard of her sickness ; and that God v/ould sanctify the afflic- 
tive dispensation for good to all the family ; and now also, that 
. God may be your supporter and comforter. — In respect of your- 
self, I would remind you of the question asked by the Lord in 
Jeremiah, Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me^ My Father^ 
be thou the guide of my youth ? (Jer. iii. 4.) — It would not be 
seasonable to enter into particulars on this melancholy occa- 
sion ; lest I should seem to speak to the grief of those whom 
God hath wounded. But you must be conscious, that a radical 

23 



266 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

and entire change is needful, in order to your participating 
the joy of God's salvation ; at least, you must be aware, that 
this is my judgment, from what I have hitherto observed and 
heard. 

" Your favoured situation at Leicester, and the opportuni- 
ties which you have formerly had of hearing my dear departed 
friend and brother, Mr. Robinson, whose praise is in all the 
churches; as well as your present advantages; preclude the 
necessity of my entering into particulars, as your former letter 
seemed to intimate a desire of my doing. But if, aware of that 
plainness of speech which I am accustomed to use on such in- 
finitely important topics, though, I trust, connected with tender 
sympathy and affection, you should still desire me to write to 
you on the subject, and point out any special questions on 
which you wish for my opinion ; notwithstanding my infirmities 
and engagements, I will endeavour to answer you : and if any 
book of mine, which you have not, would be acceptable to you 
or your father, send me word and I will order it. 

" But I believe the whole in your case may nearly be sum- 
med up in exhortation, to listen patiently and attentively to 
your own conscience ; to reverence it ; and to remember that, 
by acting contrary to it in any degree or instance, or endeavour- 
ing to suppress its dictates, you quench the Spirit of God, and 
provoke him to leave you. — I cannot but think, you know 
enough of the great outlines of evangelical religion, and are so 
far convinced of the truth of it, that, in following the dictates 
of your conscience, you would be led to separate from the va- 
nities of a vain world ; to repent and turn to God^ and do works 
meet for repentance ; to come to Christ, sit at his feet with Ma- 
ry, hear his word with obedient faith, and make his command- 
ments the rule, and his example the pattern, of your future 
conduct. This alone is the way of peace and happiness : this 
alone can prepare you for an earlicF death, or prove the way 
for comfort in declining years, (should you live to that time,) 
under the infirmities of age, and the near prospect of 
death. All else, however it may glitter in youthful and 
worldly eyes, is mere tinsel ; it is vanity and vexation of 
spirit. 

^^ I have informed our friends as you desired. — The first time 
for above a twelve month, I have left home, and ridden over to 
Stone, where your cousin King lives, about five miles from 
Aston. . . . We all unite in condolence, and kind remembrance 
to your father and the rest of the family ; and in prayer for you 
all. I remain your affectionate uncle, 

Thomas Scott." 

Tliis correspondence with his niece continued, and produ- 



1813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 267 

ced some letters which may hereafter be introduced. He says 
to her, Dec. 13, 1814, ^^It is very true that I can spare little 
time for letter-writing, in the ordinary sense of the word : but, 
if I could, by any thing which 1 might write, be an instrument 
in the hand of God in leading you into the paths of peace and 
salvation, it would fall in with the object of all rny occupation 
— the ministry of reconciliation — beseeching sinners to he recon- 
ciled to God.'' 

!n January following, occurred a death which might justly 
be accounted a public, as well as private loss — that of my fa- 
'ther's highly esteemed friend and benefactor, Mr. Henry 
Thornton. About a year before that event, after a considera- 
ble interruption of their intercourse, he had received a letter 
from Mr. T., just in the midst of his disquietude at the disco- 
very he had made of the state of his pecuniary affairs, which 
was highly cheering to his mind. It breathed united kindness 
and piety. '^ I have heard lately," said the writer, '• one or 
two very unfavourable accounts of your health, and I cannot 
resist my inclination to assure you, though from this desk of 
worldly business, how much I sympathize with you in those 
temporal sorrows, which i doubt not are working out for you, 
as you have been used so often to say to others, a far more ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory. — Having in more early 
life been an attendant on your ministry, I cannot at this later 
period be forgetful of my obligations to you ; and, though I 
may have assisted you in some degree in what may partly be 
called your carnal things, I mean in what concerned the print- 
ing of your Commentary on the Bible, I still feel myself on the 
whole your debtor ; since my advantages, like those, I trust, of 
many others, are not capable of being estimated at any pecu- 
niary price." — My father had just been preaching from the 
passage of Scripture alluded to by Mr. T., (2 Cor. iv. 16 — 18,) 
when on his return home he found this letter, and in it a real 
cordial, such as he wanted. He considered it as confirming the 
intimation he had formerly received from Mr. T.'s father, that 
his ministry had been blessed as the means of first giving a de- 
cidedly rehgious turn to Mr. H. T.'s mind. Independently, 
therefore, of the kindness which it breathed, and the *^ dawn 
of fight" which it cast upon the ^' gloom" that had surrounded 
him, it could not but afford him the highest gratification to 
think of having contributed, in any degree, to the formation of 
such a character as Henry Thornton ; and much more to 
have been made instrumental (as he hoped,) in infusing that 
principle, which was the firm basis of all his sterling virtues. — 
Proportioned, accordingly, to the regard which he bore to Mr. 
H. T., was my father's regret for his loss, when he was remo- 



268 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

ved from the world by a death so premature to all but himself. 
His notice of it in a letter, written a few days after, is brief, but 
touching ; and at the same time worthy of the writer. " I can- 
not express," he says, "- how much the death of Mr. H. Thorn- 
ton affects me ; even as the death of some near relation. I feel 
low and grieved whenever I think of it : but the Lord is wise 
and faithful. The Lord reward upon his fatherless children all 
his kindness to me and mine ! — As far as either your concerns 
or mine are implicated, it is a fresh lesson on the admonition, 
Cease ye from man^ whose breath is in his nostrils. When the 
rush-hght in my chamber goes out, it is dark ; but that darkness 
leads me to expect the dawn and the sun. All things will be 
right at last, if we be right. Nothing is of much consequence 
but eternity." 

This prayer for Mr. H. T.'s ^^ fatherless children," (who so 
soon after became motherless also,) he never ceased to repeat 
as long as he Hved ; almost daily alluding to them, though with- 
out a name, yet in a manner that was understood, in his family 
worship. 

The next publication, which proceeded from my father's pen, 
was occasioned by the death of another highly honoured and 
dear friend, v</^hom he always considered as one of the most emi- 
nent Christians that he had ever known or read of This was 
the Right Hon. Lady Mary Fitzgerald. That excellent per- 
son lost her life, at nearly ninety years of age, by fire ! and my 
father preached and published, in April, 1815, a sermon on 
the occasion, in which he gives a very interesting sketch of her 
character, and the outline of her history. He observes in the 
preface, that she '' was constantly, when in town, and when 
her health would permit, an attendant on his ministry for above 
seventeen years." " I was also honoured," he says, " with 

what might almost be considered as an intimacy with her 

She was very useful in strengthening my hands in my ministry, 
when concurring circumstances tended greatly to weaken and 
discourage me : and she has always been ready to aid and con- 
cur with me in every plan for attempting usefulness, not only 
while I was in town, but since I came to this place." In the 
body of the discourse, speaking with reference to the same sub- 
ject, .he says : '^ Many a time, when cares and disquietudes 
seemed to disqualify my mind, for either receiving or impart- 
ing spiritual good, and I called on her, rather from a sense of 
duty, and to testify respect and gratitude, than from higher mo- 
tives and expectations ; free communication, in discourse with 
her, has produced such a change, and I have been so sensibly 
calmed, refreshed, and animated for every work and labour 
of love, that I could hardly believe myself the same anxious, 



im3—TWr\ TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 269 

heartless being, which I had been only just before. Indeed I 
may say, I scarcely ever experienced such an effect from any 
book or sermon, however excellent. And this was the case 
especially in my last visits to her ; when I was led to think, 
from what I had previously heard, that concurrmg infirmities 
precluded much expectation of interesting discourse between 
us." 

The following extracts of letters will show what were his 
farther occupations at this period. 

'^ March 13, 1815. I have sent to the Christian Observer a 
sheet of translation from Calvin, on the use of the moral law, 
which appears to me exceedins'ly well adapted to meet the per- 
versions of modern Calvinists, as well as to vindicate the au- 
thor from the ignorant and illiberal abuse generally thrown on 
him. I have a great idea that extracts from Calvin might be 
rendered very useful, if circulated at present. I am studying 
him more than I ever did before ; and, in my revisal of the '' Re- 
marks,' (which I am trying to put quite into another form, 
and not only to condense, but to improve every way,) 1 now 
and then make most conclusive quotations from hirn. I allow 

the time in the forenoon, after 1 have taught , for this 

employment, when not interrupted. 

" But my main occupation is the Index to the Bible. The 
partners are so urgent for me to expedite it, that I am forced to 
give up, or postpone my plans of revision and improvement of 
the Commentary, which [ was carrying on, in, I trust, a useful 
manner. I spend half, or more, of my working time (which is 
nearly all, except sleeping time,) about it. — I find it a difficult 
and cumbrous business : and yet I think the index itself will 
throw much light on the Scriptures and on the comment. I 
must begin very soon to print ; and, when I am preparing* copy 
for the press, I hope God will aid me to simplify the business, 
more than I can do in the rough draught. 

" Thomas' Sermon and Memoir of Mr. West give an idea 
of sterling excellence sui generis^ which is suited to put most 
affluent professors of the Gospel on thinking. What do I ? or, 
What might I do?" 

The last paragraph refers to my brother's little publication 
on the death of the founder of Gawcott Chapel, which was be- 
fore mentioned. Of the Index to the Commentary, .^hich 
afterward partook also of the character of a Concordance to the 
sacred text, and was finally relinquished for more urgent, per- 
haps more important employment, we shall have farther occa- 
sion to speak as we proceed. 

" May 16, 1815. I have had some measure of fever, and 
though I have not been laid by, I have been rendered less ca» 

23* 



270 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

pable of extra exertion than usual. I have written and pub- 
lished a futieral sermon on dear Lady Mary Fitzgerald I 

have also been forming an index to my answer to CrooU, which 
is just coming out 

'^ You will have heard that Mr. Fuller is dead. This will 
be a great loss to the Baptist Mission especially : but it is so 
firmly fixed, that it is not likely to be easily shaken. A little 
less eagerness about adult baptism, in a secretary, would com- 
pensate something. — So one goes, and another younger than I, 
and I go on preaching and writing ! I have written a long letter 
which is printing in an Irish pamphlet, respecting our church, 
&c. ; in which I am sure I shall not satisfy the bigots on any 
side ; but which, 1 flatter myself, may do some good. The 
pamphlet is entitled, ^The Evil of Separation from the Esta- 
blished Church, in a Series of Letters to the Rev. Peter Roe, 
Kilkenny.' I had no hand in the title, or in any thing but the 
introductory letter. 

" I think more good is going on in this neighbourhood than 
there was, and fresh persons come, in place of that large pro- 
portion of the old congregation which has left us : so that our 
company is not much smaller. I go on with my routine of ser- 
vices, as usual, but am extremely weary ; yet not materially 
worse afterward." 

About two years afterward, the pamphlet, here referred to^ 
was reprinted in London ; and, on that occasion, my father ad- 
ded a second letter, with an appendage, of which he speaks as 
follows : — 

" In revising my papers which Mr. Roe published, I have 
been led to write a Treatise on the religion of Israel, as an es- 
tablishment, and have been drawn on to extend it to some sheets. 
It is, I think, quite original, and gives a view of the whole sub- 
ject, entirely different from what I ever read or conceived be- 
fore I began, and highly favourable to establishments in gene- 
raV 

The mention which occurs of the changes in his congrega- 
tion may give occasion here to introduce the following excellent 
remarks from a letter, written, at a somewhat earlier period, to a 
gentleman then resident at Cambridge, but since very usefully 
employed in the ministry ; who, at the instance of a clerical 
friend, consulted him on the best means of obviating such fluc- 
tuations. 

'^ March 7, 1814. I am much obliged to you for your kind 
inquiries after my health, and to all my friends who pray for 
nie in this respect : but I especially need and value prayer for 
me, that I may be carried through the last stage of my pilgrim- 



iHlo — liii^l.J TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. Y7T" 

age, in a manner which may adorn and honour the gospel of 
God our Saviour. 

" .... I am enabled to spend almost as much time in my 
studies, and with my pen, as heretofore ; and to officiate in my 
little church as formerly. Indeed, L v/ish I were as well able 
in mind, as in body, to answer the inquiry which you so reluc- 
tantly propose to me : but this is by no means the case. AH 
my experience, and observation, and study, wholly fail to teach 
me how to keep together a congregation, which is prejudiced 
against some part of that instruction, which faithfulness renders 
it my duty to inculcate. It seems to me as hopeless, as to give 
the farmer counsel how he may use his fan, and yet not lessen 
the heap of corn and chaff on his barn floor. Even in respect 
of opinions about adult baptism introduced lately in my little 
congregation, all the plans which I have devised, seem wholly 
to fail, in respect of keeping together even those who received 
their first religious impressions und^r my ministry. I have 
prayed much respecting it, and varied my plans : but yet my 
people continue to leave me ; especially the newly awakened, 
who I fear, go to be lulled asleep again by immersion,* and 
joining a baptist congregation in the next village 

'^ In all cases, as far as my experience and observation reach» 
they, who have received partial religious instruction, and, as it 
were, made up their minds to it^ vvill hear a new minister so long 
as he tells them what they already know w believe. This is 
the standard by which they try his doctrine : but, if he attempts 
to rectify their errors, however manifest, and with v;hatever 
ability and candour he does it ; or to instruct their ignorance, 
however palpable ; they will take offence, and probably forsake 
his ministry ; accusing him of some deviation from sound 
doctrine, as their reason for so doing. Yet, without their errors 
being rectified, or their deficiencies supplied, or their cha- 
racters improved, their attendance is wholly in vain 

'' A niece of mine, now married to a missionary in Africa, 
used to say, that I pre-dched straight forward : and thus I w^ould 
advise your friend to do ; to preach straightforward^ declaring 
what he deems the truth of God, simply and plainly ; but not 
turning aside to argue against any who dissent from it, except in 
matters of superior importance and clearness. 

" He should, how^ever, endeavour to proportion his doctrine 
to the scriptural measure ; and not to have more Calvinism, 
properly so called, in his sermons, in proportion to other in- 

* Viz. by resting in the external change and profession. 



structions, than is found in the New Testament. Some Cal- 
vinists put as much into a sermon as the whole of St. Paul's 
epistles contam, but far less of other things. Mr. Newton 
used to say, that Calvinism should be, in our general religious 
instructions, like a lump of sugar in a cup of tea ; all should 
taste of it, but it should not be met with in a separate form. — I 
think I could preach all which is essential to my Calvinism, 
even to "pious vVesleyans, for a short time, and almost win their 
assent : but not all Methodists are pious and humble ; the 
hearts^ as well as the heads^ of some are Arminian : these are, 
and will be, spies : they will discern the deviation, if not by 
seeing^ yet by feeling ; and will alarm their more humble 
brethren. — Yet still mdividuals will get good ; and others will 
be brought forth ; and, when we have done what we can, we 
must leave the rest to God in prayer." 

With this may be connected a short extract from a letter to 
his youngest son, written at the period at which we have ar- 
rived. 

"October 23, 1816. I suppose no man ever entered on a 
new sphere, with your views of what man ought to be, without 
finding more and more, that those among whom he laboured 
were farther from that standard than he at first supposed. Hu- 
man wickedness and human misery always appear greater on 
investigation, than on a superficial view. But to be the ho- 
noured instrument of doing even a little good in this mischie- 
vous, miserable, deluded, ungodly world, is a singular mercy 
and privilege : and the more diseased your neighbours are, the 
more is medical help needful. Some, yea, many, will die, do 
all you can : but take heed to thyself and to the doctrine^ for in 
so doings thou shalt both save thyself and them that hear thee, 
A httle good one year, and a little good another year, amounts 
to much good in a course of years. Watch then against dejec- 
tion. Preach, and pray, and wait, and persevere, and all will 
be well at last." 

We have already seen him contemplating a new and re-mo- 
deled edition of his answer to the " Refutation of Calvinism." 
This was one of the works which now employed such time as 
could be spared for it. He says, January 6, 1816, " The first 
book of the Remarks is finished ; much enlarged and reduced 
to method, under numerous sections ; several containing en- 
tirely new matter. I purpose to leave out all, or most, beyond 
the fourth book, and to shorten that. I have begun to print ; 
but I shall go on very slowly." The parts thus proposed to be 
omitted, were chiefly those which related to the extracts from 
the Fathers, introduced in the " Refutation." 



1813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 273 

This year, (1816,) was a year of many trials to him. At 
the commencement of it he suffered from fever ; and again so 
severely, in the month of April, that he fully anticipated its fa- 
tal termination. The life, also, of his second son was brought 
into the most imminent peril by sudden and very distressing 
illness ; while his youngest son was obliged to relinquish a 
situation, in which he had hoped for much usefulness, by the 
great profligacy, and even threatening behaviour of a manufac- 
turing population, which rendered it improper to retain a fami- 
ly among them. Certain calamitous events, also, in collateral 
branches of the family greatly afflicted him ; as did the painful 
intelligence of the deaths of missionaries in Africa, who 
had been trained by him, and from whose labours he looked 
for important results. These, and other circumstances, gave 
occasion to certain expressions in some farther extracts which 
I shall present from his letters. 

The following hints on the subject of temptations, arising 
chiefly from the deep and mysterious dealings of God with the 
human race ; and likewise on that of anxiety concerning the 
spiritual interests and future state of our children ; will not be 
uninteresting to those who have experienced the feelings refer- 
red to. 

" March 4, 1816. I have of late received so many letters of 
painful intelhgence, that they have almost been to me like the 
messengers, who followed one another with evil tidings to Job ; 
though, I bless God, far from so distressing ; yet, in my shat- 
tered frame and spirits, rather more than I could well sup- 
port. . . . 

^^ I have, for many years, when assailed by harassing men- 
tal temptations, taken occasion from them to leave, as it were, 
my ow^n personal concerns, and to enlarge especially, after, or 
even during, their prevalence, in supplications for the extension 
of the kingdom of Christ, and for the subversion of that of Sa- 
tan ; subjoining a sort of earnest request, to be enabled to be 
-revenged on these enemies, by more vigorous and successful 
efforts in the cause of God. . . . Temptations follow tempers ; 
and Satan has awfully prevailed against some persons of a rea- 
soning turn of mind. — Such things used to harass me much 
more than they do at present. I would hope because 1 take a 
better method of getting deliverance from them. .... In gene- 
ral, I consider them as temptations to unbeliefs contrary to the 
fullest proof conceivable; the remains of the skepticism of 
our hearts wrought upon by satanicai influence, as the waves of 
the sea are by the wind ; and to be overcome only by the sword 
of the Spirit^ which is the word of God — Thus it is written : 
and by earnest prayer, Increase my faith ! Help mine unbe 



f274 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLK [CHAP. XV , 

lief! .... 1 every day find cause to bless God for protection 
from the assaults of these enemies in this respect ; of which I 
formerly had dire experience. O make strong thine hedge about 
me! (Jobi. 10.)" 

On the case of these '•^ reasoning persons," he says, in ex- 
planation, March 19, " Not one of them, that I have heard and 
known of, seems to have received the love of tiie truth, as well 
as the knowledge of the truth ; (2 Thess. ii. 10, Heb. x. 26 :) 
— a distinction which appears to me of great importance. A 
want of simplicity, humility and gravity, has likewise been ob- 
servable in them, by all competent judges, even while brilliant 
talents excited the admiration of pious persons in general." 

With reference to the same subject, he says, June 25, " I re- 
member that, just before I entered on my exposition of the 
book of Job, 1 was much more exercised with sucii temptations, 
arising from the awful truths of Scripture, and dispensations 
of God, than at any time before or since : and I have long 
thought, that this was permitted, among other things, in order 
to give me more realizing views of that awful subject, the pow- 
er and agency of evil spirits, than I before had ; and that it 
proved very useful to me in explaining that part of Scripture." 

••^ March 14, 1816. Human nature verges to extremes : it 
is the pendulum, vibrating to and fro, and never stationary i7i 
medio. Yet truth and duty generally lie in medio. — The want 
of solicitude about the salvation of their children, and undue 
solicitude about accomplishments, preferment, and worldly ad- 
vantages, which are prominent in most parents, even professors 
of the gospel, nay, ministers have been, and are a most lamenta- 
ble evil, and a grievous sign of our times. 13ut, while this is 
watched and prayed against, we should be careful not to run 
into any extreme which implies distrust of God, or want of 
submission to his holy and sovereign will, who doeth what he 
pleases, but always does what is right ; and what all his friends 
will know to be right at last, and ought to believe to be so now. 
.... I am of opinion, that few thus trained up, (in a consistent 
Christian manner,) live and die unconverted. ... In general, the 
Lord's method is, \ think, first, to bring down our wills into 
submission, unreserved submission ; and then to grant the thing 
longed for : and the sweetness of unreserved submission, after 
many conflicts with unbelief and a rebellious will, has been 
greater than almost any I ever felt, in having the desires of my 
heart granted me. This was the final result of my long pro- 
tracted rebellion against the doctrine of gratuitous election. 1 
shall not forget the sweetness of saying, for substance. Even 5o, 
Father^ for so it seemed good in thy sight!''"' 

On recovering from the fever nnHor which he suffered in the 



i 8 1 3 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 275 

spring, he thus wrote to his correspondent in Northamber- 
land. 

"May 9, 1816. I am quite a prisoner in this place; but 
can reach the church, and preach nearly as usual. I can also 
write, and read, and study, many hours in a day ; but always 
uneasy and weary. My sight, however, and my faculties seem 
unimpaired ; though I hear badly, walk clumsily, and with pain, 
and do not suppose I shall ever try to ride more. — I have, 
however, numerous and most valuable mercies, and only need 
a more holy and thankful heart. I am now in my seventieth 
year ; and have outlived almost all who were my contempora- 
ries, and many of my juniors, in the ministry All my 

care and prayers about my own children, in this respect, (their 

conversion,) are transferred to my sixteen grand-children 

I desire, and, I trust, shall not in vain desire, the help of your 
prayers, both for them and myself — that I may close well. . . . 
It might be expected that I should write to each of them, and 
talk particularly to them, when I see them, in the way you 
wish me to write to your children : but I either never had the 
proper talent for this kind of service, or I have quite lost it. I 
pray for them and say a few things to such as come to see me ; 
and they seem very much attached to me : but I seem ashamed 
that I feel no hberty of being more explicit with them, I trust, 
however, their parents supply my lack of service. I seem to 
have lost my talent of prattling with children, just as I have my 
adroitness in nursing. You must, in this respect, tell your 
children what you think I would say or write to them. I will 
send you a few of my later publications, .... and if you meet 
with aught too Calvinistic, you must skip it.^^ 

The closing sentence will not pass unnoticed : " If you meet 
with aught too Calvinistic, you must skip it." As coming from 
so inveterate a Calvinist., it may deserve to be again referred 
to ; as may, also,' one or two other things which have come be- 
fore us. They may show, where persons of my father's senti- 
ments really lay the stress, privately as well as in pubhc. 

To myself he wrote at this period : " As I am now in my 
seventieth year, it might not be amiss to come with part of your 
family each year, as long as I shall be with you. My prayers 
might be quickened and encouraged at least, which is almost 
all in my power : and, as my staying at home saves expense, I 
might contribute to that of your journey." 

As my object is, to display fully the spirit of him concerning 

whom I write, I make no apology for such familiar extracts : 

and I apply the same remark to that which follows from a letter 

of my sister's. 

-^'^May 22, 1816. I think we should break through almost 



276 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV% 

any inconveniences for the benefit and pleasure of our dear fa- 
ther's company. Alas ! we must not expect this high privilege 
long. Let us enjoy and improve it, while we possess it ! He 
preached a most affecting sermon on Thursday, from I am in 
a strait betwixt two^ Sfc. The description of heavenly happi- 
ness was, I think, superior to any thing I ever heard or read : 
and, at the same time, he made Ufe appear more desirable than 
I ever before felt it. 1 must own I was disposed, like you, to 
be very averse to a new pupil at Aston ; but his coming was i 
entirely my father's own proposal. He wished it so much, that J 
neither my mother nor myself could oppose it." i 

\ Hence it appears, that, though my father had, for some time, 
been relieved from the care of the missionary students, he had 
not quite given up the labour of preparing young men for the 
church. — On the subject of this additional pupil, he says, ^^ My 
new pupil does not teaze me ; for I am competent to teach him. 
My old one teazes me more, for I cannot keep before him. 
But T feel much comfort in the hope, that great good may here- 
after accrue from each of them being so unexpectedly brought 
under my roof." 

Soon after this, I visited Aston as my father had desired, with 
part of my family, and had the pain of finding my brother's fa- 
mily in distress, from the death of an infant daughter, which 
had taken place at my sister's house, a few miles from Aston. 
I mention these circumstances for the purpose of introducing a 
note of my father's, which, though very hastily written, I think 
worthy of insertion. 

" June 31, 1816. I neither object to, nor care about, inter- 
ment in the church, or church-yard : but T make allowance 
for the feelings of others. I never mean to give any directions, 
in this respect^ about my own funeral. ... If the dear babe is 
to be interred here, I shall vastly prefer performing the service 
myself ; and should take occasion to speak on 'the subject ; and 
I really could wish, (though I stop there,) that you and Euphe- 
mia too would be present, as something might be said profita- 
ble to all, and comfortable too. — An old fashioned man, I feel 
no approbation of the fashion of near relations absenting them- 
selves from the funeral. I think, instead of preventing the ef- 
fects of grief, it is shrinking from that which soon would tend 
to comfort : and it gives others an idea, that we are afraid of 
looking the matter full in the face, so to speak. — Depend upon 
it, this loss of a babe, who never actually sinned, and is doubt- 
less interested in the covenant, will eventually, (though exqui- 
sitely painful at present,) be the source of future sweetness. 
She is gone to join her grandmother, and her aunt, and two un- 
cles, (that would have been,) &^c. ; and I feel a pecuHar com- 



1 8 1 3 — 182 1 .] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 277 

fort in thinking that I have another descendant in heaven, whom 
I shall shortly join. — But enough 1" 

In the course of my visit, he made the following contribution 
to a letter to his eldest grand-child. 

"July 25, 1816. From the letters which you write, I am 
disposed to think of you, and write to you, as becoming now a 
woman not as a child. God has very bountifully dealt with you* 
in his providence, in giving you a sound and good understand- 
ing and very valuable opportunities of cultivating it : which, 
duly improved, will do more for your respectability and com- 
fort in this present life, than either riches, or those showy ac- 
complishments, which you see, and perhaps are tempted to envy, 
in some of the children of your superiors. But to be capable 
of doing something useful for ourselves and others is a far bet- 
ter preparation for the future, than the habits of a genteel and 
useless hfe. Learn something every day. Every young per- 
son who knows how to do something in the evening, which was 
unknown in the morning, has made an acquisition which no- 
thing can take from him, or her, except by incapacitating either 
body or mind for its functions. — But you have a far more im- 
portant advantage afforded you, in the religious instructions and 
example set before j'^ou, and the many fervent prayers poured 
out for you ; and in all your great privileges in this respect- 
But be sure, my dear Jane, do not rest in these things ; nor in 
notions, nor decency of conduct, nor in a form of religion. 
Be all in earnest in secret prayer, and often in meditation on 
what you hear and read, and comparing all with the Scriptures. 
Beg of God for his special converting grace, to change your 
heart, and, as it were, to graft the tree, that it may bring forth 
good fruit. O consider your soul — eternity — ^judgment : con- 
sider the anxious desires, and prayers, and hopes, and fears of 
your dear parents on your account. What delight will i^ give 
them, to be satisfied that you have chosen the good part which 
shall never be taken from you ! how will it be abundant in many 
thanksgivings to God; and rejoice their hearts under every diffi- 
culty ! How would it gladden my heart, under all my infirmi- 
ties, to hear of it before I die ! What a blessing would you 
then be to your brothers and sisters 1 / will bless thee^ and 
thou shalt be a blessing. May God bless these hints ! May he 
bless you, and them all." 

The impression made upon my own mind by what I wit- 
nessed, I could not forbear thus expressing in the same let- 
ter : '' How exciting is it to see him, amid infirmities and indis- 
position, so elevated in mind, rousing and animating all about 
him, in a manner quite sublime. How delightful is such fit 
latter end 1" 

24 



278 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

After hearing of our safe arrival at home, he wrote as fol- 
lows : 

'-'- August !23, 1816. When we consider what may happen, 
and is continually happening, we ought to regard these (safe 
journeys, <Sz:c.) as calls for cheerful gratitude : and in such a 
world as this, (made such by sin, of which our sins form their 
full proportion,) we ought to be always on the look-out for 
something to cheer us, and to excite gratitude to God, and con- 
fidence in him for the future. We should determine, and pray 
to be enabled, to dwell on the bright side of the Lord's deal- 
ings with us, and dispensations towards us, and towards all 
connected with us :~with how many unmerited mercies we 
are favoured, and from how many deserved evils we are ex- 
empted : — and we should carefully turn away our thoughts 
from the dark side^ as it appears to us ; only considering who 
and what we are, have been, and have done, that we may won- 
der and be astonished, that things are so well with us as they 
are. — The same reflections, extended to our whole apostate 
race, would lead us rather to admire that the earth is so full 
of the goodness of the Lord, than that it is so full of sorrow 
and suffering. 

'' I, also, felt low and gloomy for some time after you left 
us : but I afterward rejoiced that I had been favoured to see 

you and yours once more, &:.c.. Gen. xlviii. 8 — 11 You lay 

too much stress upon place and distance. When farther advan- 
ced in the school in which St. Paul was taught contentment, 
you will rise above all this ; and you should endeavour to do it 
now 

" Tenderness of conscience, (a healthy state,) degenerates, 
in many instances, into a morbid sensibility, so that the con- 
sciousness of rising sinful thoughts and desires mixing with 
mor^ pure motives, while it ought to produce humiliation^ 
proves also the source of dejection; as if there were any saint 
on earth, or ever had been, who was wholly delivered from tljese 
things : or as if it could be otherwise, than that the keener our 
vision, the greater our watchfulness, and the deeper our hatred 
of every sin, the more quick must be this sensibility, and the 
more acute the pain which attends it, till all sin be extinguished. 

We must not stop at the words, O wretched man that 1 

am^ but adopt the apostle's thanksgiving also, and so accompa- 
ny him to the end of the chapter, and forward into that which 

follows it ..We may expect too much from our intercourse 

when we meet, and thus, through the partial disappointment, 
fail of the comfort and benefit we might otherwise receive. It 
renfiinds me of Mr. Newton's remark : ' If, when we meet to- 



1813 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 279 

gether, we expect good from one another, and not from God 
by means of one another, we resemble empty pitchers attempt- 
ing to fill each other.' — As to myself, I am a poor creature, at 
best ; and it cannot be long that ! shall be able to communicate 
even counsels, or words of encouragement, to you. You must 
look above me and all others, to the Lord alofie. Trials and 
temptations must be struggled through by frequent, fervent, 
wrestling prayer. You must say. Truly my soul waiteth upon 
God : from him cometh my salvation. (Psahii Ixii. 1 , 2, 5 — 
8.) VVhen Mr. Newton left Olney, I seemed to have lost my 
counsellor : but, carrying my difficulties immediately to the 
Lord, I believe I was eventually no loser." 

A few months after, he was called again to address his north- 
ern correspondent on a melancholy occasion, — the death of 
a married daughter. He expresses deep sympathy with her, 
but deeper still with the bereaved husband : yet excuses him- 
self from writing to him, '^1 alwavs," he says, '*■ look upon 
the loss of a beloved and suitable wife, as one of the greatest 
afflictions that can be endured upon eartii. Were he, therefore, 
ever so nearly related to me, and acquainted personally, I 
should find more difficulty and incompetency in writing on the 

subject, than on almost any other ...Even faith, and prayer 

for submission, will not produce their full effect in calming and 
reconciling the mind, till time, gliding on, has, so to speak, 

abated the irritation of the painful wound I am obliged to 

you for your particular account of your children, as it is suited 
to direct my prayers for them : but I must not engage in any 

fresh correspondence They have the means of grace, 

&;c Prayer, connected with occasional converse with them 

on the concerns of their souls, (not too frequent,) with a gene- 
ral tenour of discourse and conduct impressing their consciences 
that you deeply meaii all you say^ are your part. My children 
generally say, that what I spoke to others, in their presence, 
on religious subjects, impressed them more, than when I di- 
rectly, as it were, preached to them.— The Lord has been 
very gracious to you in respect to several of them : while you 
thank him for them, it will encourage prayer for the others ; 
and at length you may perhaps live to see the last brought 
home : or you may join with the inhabitants of heaven in re- 
joicing over the repentance of that one or more, whom you 
wept and prayed over, as unconverted and impenitent, while 
you lived on earth, 1 feel considerable interest in your fa- 
mily and connexions. These seem a plantation in a far coun- 
try, springing up from seed which I was the instruLuent of sow- 
ing at Weston-Underwood ; and which 1 have since done but 



280 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

little to tend and water. I have great cause of thankfulness 
in this and very many respects, that God hath made, and is 
making me, an instrument of good to others. Pray for me, 
that I may finish my course with joy, for I am still a poor, weak, 
sinful creature." 

His only surviving sister, Mrs. Webster, was now far ad- 
vanced in years, and labouring under increased infirmities ; 
which drew from him repeated portions of letters, strongly ex- 
pressive of sympathy, and adapted to her situation. 

" December 8, 1815. It is of little use to retrace the past, 
except for the purposes of exercising humiliation for what we 
have done wrong, and gratitude for God's unmerited and nu- 
merous mercies : and, amidst all our pains, and sorrows, and 
infirmities, comparing all the Lord's dealings with us with our 
own deservings, we must still say. Surely goodness and mercy 
have followed me all the days of my life : and, if we can add, 
I shall dwell in the house of the Lor d for ever ^ we may well say, 
It is enough : I have waited for thy salvation^ O Lord ! The 
apostle, who had his full share of tribulations from every quar- 
ter, exhorts the Thessalonians, no doubt from the feelings of 
his own heart, Pray without ceasing ; in every thing give thanks ; 
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. As 
to the past, except as the effects of it remain, and the ac- 
count must be given, it has no existence. Like an uneasy 
night, it is over, and the uneasiness with it. As to the future, 
it may never arrive, and all our cares and contrivances about it 
are vain. It is true that we must die, and, at our time of life, 
and with our many infirmities, it must be ere long : but all the 
preceding and concurring circumstances are wholly unknown 
to us, and we ought not, for a moment, to be solicitous about 
them. What we at present suffer, or enjoy, or hope for, with 
every alleviation or aggravation of suflfering, is all which belongs 
to us. The morrow shall take thought for the things of itself : 
sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. The whole is in 'the 
hands of Him, who hath loved his people and redeemed them to 
God with his blood. He hath the keys of death and the unseen 
world. Precious in his sight is the death of his saints. May we 
be numbered among them in glory everlasting ! Let us only 
aim to be ever ready, and give diligence to be found of him in 
peace.) vnthout spot andblameless ; and then, when death comes 
to remove us, we may hope, as it were, to hear the Saviour say, 
It is /, be not afraid.^' 

Sentences like these, from one who was then daily walking 
on the borders of the dark valley., and has since passed through 
it, acquire a sort of consecrated character. He was himself ia 



1813— 18^1. J TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 281 

the circumstances, against which he endeavoured to support a 
beloved sister : and hence what be utters carries with it a force, 
which the sao^e words from the hps of a mere theorist could 
never possess. 

To the same, January 13, 1817. "I have no special advice 
to give : and it is only the old over again, to preach patience, 
meekness, &c. Let patience have its perfect work, that ye may 
he perfect and entire^ wanting nothing. ' Ail our comforts, alle- 
viations, and hopes, are mercy '. ail our sorrows far less than 
we deserve. Why then should a liinng man complain? As 
Mr. Newton used lo say, A. sinner has no right, and a saint has 
no reason — for all things are working together for his good. 
And God has a right to correct us by what rod it pieaseth him. 
Submission, unreserved submission, is not only the most rea- 
sonable thing imagifjable, but the most calming, consoling 
state of mind in this vale of tears : and produces the happiest 
effects on ourselves and all around us ; especially when accom- 
panied with daily earnest prayer for those, in particular, whom 
we regard as most instrumental in occasioning, or causing, our 

trials May God bless you and all yours. As it seems now 

decided that we shall see each other no more on earth, may 
we be daily more ready for a joyful meethig, very soon, in 
heayen !" 

In the Autumn of 1816, he speaks of having made arrange- 
ments for more vigorously prosecuting his Index and Concord- 
ance, at the request of the proprietors of his Commentary : 
and in March, 1817, after mentioning his second letter to the 
Rev. Peter Roe, on religious estabhshments, (which was no- 
ticed above,) he says, '' I have finished my new edition of the 
Remarks. You will, in the concluding sheets, see, that I have 
undertaken to pubhsh a translation of th« Articles of the Synod 
of Dort, and all that respects them. I scarcely ever read more 
sound divinity : yet too much is aimed at. I shall annex a few 
notes and references : and point out what I judge to be right, 
and what wrong, in the whole business. — By the way, the Syl- 
loge Corfessionum, printed at Oxford, is a book well worth 
reading throughout." 

Three months afterward, he says again : '' I hope to form a 
multifarious and useful pamphlet on the Synod of Dort. I 
mean to make it a vehicle of my sentiments on a variety of 
subjects, on which I should never otherwise have spok^i out." 
The proposed work was completed in the spring of 1818, and 
published in a small octavo volume. 

The month of November, 1817, will be long remembered, as 
having inflicted upon the heart of the whole nation a deeper 
pang of disappointment and regret, by the death of that illustri- 

24^ 



2&2 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

ous princess in whom all our hopes had centered, than was 
perhaps ever felt on any like occasion. This event claims to 
be noticed here, not only as having drawn forth another publi- 
cation from my father's pen, — a funeral sermon entitled, '•'' The 
Voice of God to Britain," — but for the fresh discovery which is 
made of the tenderness of his heart, and his lively interest in 
the public welfare. I shall transcribe two short extracts of 
letters on this subject. 

December 1, 1817. Your father preached on the Sunday 
a very affecting sermon from 1 Pet. i. 22 — 25 ; and shed more 
tears in the pulpit, than ever I saw him do before. . . . On the 
Wednesday, (the day of the funeral,) we had a very crowded 
congregation, and he preached again from Micah vi. 9, a ser- 
mon which is now in the press." 

*'' December 12, from my sister : — " I never saw my dear fa- 
ther so overwhelmed by any calamity, nor so ready to anticipate 
evil. His spirits, are however, now revived in some measure, 
and he seems gratified by the manner in which the nation at 
large has received the chastisement. ...His sermons on the Sun- 
day after he received the news were the most affecting," (more 
so than the printed one, preached on the day of the funeral,) — 
" distressingly so, indeed. He was so overpowered by his 
feelings, that it was with the utmost difficulty he proceeded. — 
They say age chills the affections, but this is not the case with 
him. He is all tenderness and sympathy — daily, indeed, be- 
coming more like Christ. I sometimes feel alarmed at seeing 
him ripen so fast for glory. Oh that we might catch some 
portion of his spirit before he is taken from us !" 

The commencement of the year 1818, introduces us to what 
furnished the principal employment of his remaining days — the 
preparation of a new edition of his Bible, to be printed in ste- 
reotype, and, therefore, to receive his last corrections and im- 
provements. He thus writes, March 3d : "I have gone 
through the winter months, (which have been remarkably 
mild,) better than I could have expected. I have had but little 
fever : one Sunday I was laid by ; but I was better in a short 
time. I am, however, very infirm, and in almost constant 
pain, though not acute, in my teeth and elsewhere : yet I am 
still as fully employed in my study as ever ; and am able to 
preach at my church, I hope not quite in vain I wish to ex- 
plain to you what has been done, and is doing, about reprinting 
the exposition of the Bible. As I was not employed about the 
last edition, I had no expectation that I should have any more 
to do with another, and only hoped, that my rather corrected 
copy would be taken to print from. Nor was I aware that a 
new edition was in present contemplation." He then states, that 



1813 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 283 

another was proposed, to be brought out in the course of two 
years and a half; that a young man, long an inmate with him, 
had been apphed to, to conduct it through the press ; and that 
he himself, judging that, -' for an edition which should be the 
standard of the work as long as it may exist, it was highly desi- 
rable that he should, as far as Hfe and mental powers were spa- 
red, superintend the revisal," he had been induced to undertake 
this service. '*• Since this was settled," he proceeds, '' the 
partners have come to a determination to stereotype the work ; 
which certainly is gratifying to me." Still this new, and, as it 
proved, very laborious employment, was not, in his intention, 
to supersede, nor did it, for some time, in fact, supersede his 
preparation of the proposed Concordance and Index. — ''•It will 
not be long," he says, *'• ere they are finished : within the course 
of the summer, if I am preserved." 

In July, he says, on the same subject, '^ I have now come to 
a determination to devote every evening to revision for the new 
edition of the Bible ; and more of my time, if required, and as 
I am able. I have brought my revision so far, as to have near- 
ly settled all the points for consideration, in what I had pre- 
viously looked over.... It is evident, that I have fallen into some 
inaccuracies in what I before ventured on critical points, and 
most of what is now attempted Vv^ill be new, but well weighed, 
if I live." 

In October he adds, '• I am so engaged in preparing copy, 
correcting proofs, &c., for the new edition of the Bible, that I 
can do little towards completing my Concordance." 

On the last day of May, this year, he wrote the following 
deeply Christian and affecting letter to his Northumbrian cor- 
respondent, who was mourning the loss of a son. 

" May 31, 1818. I received your very sorrowful letter, and 
can truly say, that I sympathize with you in your sorrow, and 
do pray that the Lord may comfort you under it : and not only 
so, but greatly sanctify it to your soul. In order to this, I shall 
make a few remarks on the subject, the result of much reflec- 
tion, on the state of this suffering, dying world, and on the in- 
structions of Scripture in this particular. All our affections and 
passions ought to be subordinated to the love of God, and 
obedience to his will ; and regulated accordingly : so that the 
indulgence of sorrow is as contrary to our duty, as the indul- 
gence of anger ^ though more plausible, and deemed more amia- 
ble : and, therefore, less generally and strenuously resisted. 
We are no more warranted to say, '■ I do well to be sorrowful,' 
(that is, to indulge sorrow,) than I do well to he angry, God 
appoints the event : he is wise, righteous, faithful, and merci- 



284 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV* 

ful ; and we deserve far worse from him. His appointment is 
far different from our inclination, or alTection ; but then we are 
foolish, partial, wayward, selfish. Whether then is right, his 
appointment, or our inclination ? The former, doubtless : and, 
if so, indulged sorrow is, in fact, rebelhon against that appoint- 
ment ; and, as such, should be watched, and striven., and pray- 
ed against, with all earnestness, — The Lord hath taken away 
from us a beloved object ; the desire of our eyes with a stroke : 
but, is He not all-sufficient ? does He not yet live : is He not an 
unchangeable good ? Surely we should not say, what have I 
more? He, that made the beloved object a comfort to us, is 
able to comfort us without, immediately, or through other chan- 
nels. — ' But, I must love my child, and mourn his loss.' Yes, 
yet with submission : you must not love your child more than 
Christ ; nor will you, if you be, as J trust, his disciple. Here 
your love and natural affection must be subordinated ; else it 
will appear, that, in taking away the beloved object, he hath, 
in fact, taken away an idol. — ^ But 1 am not fully satisfied as to 
his soul.' Well, then, there were hopeful tokens, on which to 
stay your mind. But if it had not been so ; think of Eli's two 
sons, and how, when their doom was denounced, he said, It is 
the Lord^ let him do what seemeth to him good. And he bore 
the tidings of their death ; but when it was added, the arJc of 
God is taken^ he fell and died.-- Think of David's beloved Ab- 
salom ; and observe, that his strongly marked expressions of 
sorrow are universally condemned, as rebellious and ungrateful. 
Think of the manner in which Job's numerous family was at 
once cut off; and of his jealousy, lest in their feasting they 
should sin against God ; yet hear him say. The Lord gave, and 
the Lord hath taken away^ blessed he the name of the Lord, 
In all this Job sinned not. I question whether Job was more 
satisfied as to the state of any of his children's soids, than you 

are about your son's. Think of dear Lady ; her 

eldest son executed as a murderer ; a hardened wretch, till the 
last hour : the only hope this, that, in his rage in casting him- 
self off, the rope broke, and he lived till another w as fetched 
— perhaps ten minutes^ — and seemed, during that space, soft- 
ened, and earnestly crying for mercy : yet I never heard from 
her lips a murmuring word. — 1 mention these things, to show, 
that your trial is far less than many of God's most beloved chil- 
dren have suffered : and to encourage your hope that by his 
all-sufficient grace, you may be comforted and made joyful, not- 
withstanding ; as they were. 

* I believe, at his own earnest request, tlie time was extended to one or 
two hours. 



1813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 285 

" While our children or relations live, we cannot be too ear- 
nest in seeking their salvation ; in using every means, and in 
pouring out our prayers incessantly for it ; and in enforcing all 
by our example : but, when they are removed, as our duty, and 
our ability to help them, finally terminate, our sorrow and anx- 
iety, and inquiries about their state, must be unavailing, and 
are very apt to be rebellious. — If conscious of having done 
what we could upon the whole, for their final good ; and of 
seeking for them, as well as ourselves, first the kingdom of 
God and his righteousness ; this should be a source of thank- 
fulness and consolation. If conscious of having neglected our 
duty, we are called on deeply to repent and earnestly to seek 
forgiveness. If there were hopeful tokens, we should be thank- 
ful for these ; and leave the rest to God. If v»'e still anxiously 
inquire, as if we could not submit, without some farther assu- 
rance of their happiness ; we should consider this as presump- 
tion and rebellion. God withholds, and submission is our du- 
ty. Jesus, as it were, says, What is that to thee? Follow 
thou me, — Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ? May 
we not leave them to his tender and infinite mercies ? — But 
these considerations should excite us to redoubled diligence 
and earnestness about those who are still with us. Even in 
such cases as those of Eli's sons and Absalom, unreserved sub- 
mission is both the duty and the wisdom of the deeply afflict- 
ed sufferer. I can only add, that you must watch and pray 
against inordinate sorrow, as your sin and your misery ; and 
seek for resignation, submission, and acquiescence in the divine 
appointment : and never cease praying for this, till you can un- 
reservedly say. The will of the Lord be done / . . . . May God 
be your comforter, and hft up the light of his countenance upon 
you, and give you peace ! . . . . I remain yours affectionate- 
ly, Thomas Scott." 

About midsummer, I received the following accounts of him, 
and observations from him. 

From my sister. '' My father grows very infirm, but be- 
comes more heavenly every day. It is a privilege to see and 
hear him. He has been lately attending a poor parishioner, 
who died of a livef complaint. It was a very painful death, 
as to bodily suffering ; but I think the most blessed and encou- 
raging scene I ever witnessed. Visiting him in his illness has 
been quite a cordial to my dear father ; the greatest treat, he 
says, he has enjoyed for years." ^ 

From himself '^ I shall never see many of my grand-chil- 
dren ; and my deafness and infirmity spoil all the comfort of 
their company, when I do see any of them : but my more than 



2bb DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

daily prayers, from my inmost soul, are presented to God for 
them, that they may be blessed and a blessing; in whatever 
place and family they may spend lljeir future lives." — ^' One 
advantage, however, arises from our v occasional meetings ; they 
certainly excite me to more particular and earnest prayers for 
you all, especially for your spiritual good." 

I would observe, that much as he thought his company must 
be spoiled, especially to young persons, by his infirmities, I al- 
ways found it otherwise : he seemed peculiarly attractive to 
my ciiddren, even to very young ones ; and they would spend 
as much time with him as could be allowed. 

To his youngest son he wrote at tins time. 

" June 14, 18 '8. I can sympathize with you in your pains 
of teeth, &c. as I am never free from pains of the same kind ; 
nor shall be so long as I have one left ; probably not then. 
My pain, however, is not very acute ; though it makes eating 
always uncomfortable, often distressing : but, in my case, the 
disease is, I believe incurable, ancl merely one of the symptoms 
of decaying nature : and why should a living man complain? 
My mercies and my sins are both numberless ; and I am often 
quite ashamed of my impatience, cowardice, and unthahkful- 
ness. . . .We are all about as well as usual ; and I have much 
more encouragement in my ministry at this place, than I had 
some time back : considerable good seems to be done. Let us 
then strengthen and encourage our own hearts, and one ano- 
ther's, to persevere m the blessed work of our Lord, though ap- 
pearances be discouraging. As I am soon to put off my armour, 
let me animate you to gird on yours with more alacrity ; to stir 
up the gift of God that is in you ; djul to do wfiat you can. Take 
heed to yourself and to the doctrine : continue in them : for in 
so doing thou shalt both save thyself and them that hear thee. 
— Give our united iove to (U.ra.r Anne, and M^e dear chil«iren, 
one and all. May God bless them^ and make them blessings I 
As i decrease^ may you and your brothers increase : and when 
you decrease, may your children all come forward and increase, 
in one way or other serving the Lord, and promoting his cause 
in tlie world ; and this from generation to generation. This is 
the daily prayer of your affectionate father." 

Dr. Chalmers' Farewell A^ddress to the inhabitants of Kil- 
meny having excited some controversy, in certain periodical 
publications, on account of the manner in which it presses par- 
ticular practical duties, from the very commencement of a se- 
rious att*nition to religion, without waiting to ascertain, as a 
previous question^ wbetlier the principles of faith are establish- 
ed in the heart ; I, at this period, called my father's attention 



1813 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 287 

to it, as it stands reviewed in the Christian Observer, for Octo- 
ber, 1815 ; asking if he did not think, that the Address was, in 
this respect, nothing more than an expansion of such a passage 
as Isaiah i. 16 — IS, and thoroughly scriptural in its plan. His 
answer was as follows : '^ 1 think the way in which he states 
the general outhne of his argument, both for ministers at once 
urging on the conscience the necessity of immediately renoun- 
cing knov^^n sin, and setting about known duty ; and for their 
hearers honestly complying with their exhortations, and in that 
way waiting for farther light and experience ; is strictly scrip- 
tural : far more apostolical, than the systematic method of many 
modern preachers, who seem to have their arms pinioned 
when they would thus wield the sword of the Spirit, It has al- 
ways been my plan, and I was animated and invigorated in it, 
by his statements." — He remarks upon some particular pas- 
sages : but this is his view of the drift and main argument of 
the pamphlet, and he concludes, '^ His actual experiment is 
most striking." 

Very soon after this, I paid him a visit, in the course of which, 
tboujQfh I travelled alone myself, more of his family rnet under 
his roof, than had been collected together for many years. The 
occurrences of this visit will, I am persuaded, be thought in- 
teresting by the reader ; though, in order to avoid too much 
interrupting the narrative, and for other reasons, a principal 
part of what past must be postponed to a future chapter. A 
large party of clergymen, forming a private society, met at his 
house, for the last time that he was to be among them. He 
took an active and animated part in their communications toge- 
ther, and bade them farewell in that discourse, preached in his 
church, of which the Rev. D. Wilson has given the outline and 
principal passages to the public, first in the Christian Observer, 
for May, 182!, and subsequently annexed to the third edition 
of his funeral sermons preached on the death of my father. — A 
Bible Distribution Meeting was shortly after held in a barn at 
Aston, and attended by about four hundred country people, 
though it was in the midst of hay-time ; and on the market-day 
of the neighbouring town. Here also my father took his leave 
of such meetings by an address to the people. 

But the principal communication which I shall have to make 
in this work, arose as follows. So many of the family being 
now collected, it was proposed that we should spend some time 
together in conversing over our respective histories since we 
had been separated — reviewing ^' all the way which the Lord 
had led us" — and in receiving from the revered head of our fa- 
mily such admonitions and instructions, particularly with regard 
to the training up of our children, as it should occur to him 



288 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

to address to us. There were present, my father and mother, 
three of his own children, a son-in-law, and a daughter-in-law, 
and two grand-sons. My memorandum of what passed is a 
letter to my absent brother, who had previously been with us, 
but could not prolong his stay. The particulars will, I trust, 
answer the double purpose of displaying my father's character 
and principles, and instructing many readers : but a more suit- 
able place for their insertion will be found hereafter. Here, 
therefore, I shall only farther remark, that, on this occasion, 
my father uttered the memorable sentence, which has already 
been given to the public in his obituary : " On the whole, I 
cannot but feel and consider myself as a man that has been pe- 
cuUarly prospered of God ; and I desire to acknowledge this 
with humble and devout gratitude. Yes, goodness and mercy 
havefollowed me all the days of my life. Whatever my feelings 
may at any time be, — and my situation and infirmities, and per- 
haps, also, my turn of mind, expose me at times, to considera- 
ble gloom and depression — I have not all that enjoyment which 
I could earnestly desire — yet this is my deliberate judg- 
ment. Yea, and, on 1 he whole, 1 can add with good confidence, 
not only they have followed^ but goodness and mercy shall 
follow me all the days of my life,, and I shall dwell in the house 
of the Lord forever y — At this time, also, was recalled to mind 
a sentence which had fallen from him a few days before, ^'' That, 
on the whole, there were few of his contemporaries, whose 
usefulness he could consent to exchange for that with which it 
had pleased God to favour him." This sentence was the more 
striking, from the recollection of what I had often heard him 
remark, that that clause of the first Psalm — Whatsoever he 
doeth shall prosper — had frequently given him much pain, 
when he compared with it the failure and disappointment of so 
many of his attempts to do good. In all such cases, we must 
remember what is written : ^' Surely there is an end, and thine 
expectation shall not be cut off." We must not pronounce 
upon unfinished work. In waiting for the day which " shall 
declare" the result of things — " here is the patience and the 
faith of the saints." 

As an additional instance of probable usefulness, he had, 
about this time, the satisfaction of hearing, that his " Force of 
Truth," translated into French, was widely circulating on the 
Continent. It had been translated into Dutch many years be- 
fore, and printed at Amsterdam, in 1786. 

I meet with nothing farther that is memorable, till Novem- 
ber the third of this year, (1818,) when he wrote the last letter, 
which I shall have to present, to his now aged and afilicted 
sister, Mrs. Webster. It exhibits an interesting proof of his 



1 8 1 3 182 1 .] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 289 

own ^^ growth in grace," and of his zeal to strengthen the hands 
of a beloved fellow-sufferer. 

'^ I find," he says, '' in my own case, though in many respects 
surrounded with uncommon mercies, that I have great need of 
patience, amidst infirmities, and pains, and, worse than all, 
temptations, and conflicts with the remainder, (I hope only the 
remainder,) of indwelling sin : so that I am often disposed to 
dejection, and, consequently, to impatience and unthankfuhiess, 
and sometimes peevishness. Yet, on the whole, I think my 
trials and conflicts quicken me in prayer : endear the Saviour 
and salvation to me ; render me more tender and compassion- 
ate to others, when suffering and tempted ; bring me more ac- 
quainted with the promises and engagements of the new cove- 
nant, and lead me to rely on them more simply and unreservedly, 
notwithstanding difficulties and discouragements. As Mr. 
Newton once said* to an inquirer, ^ I think I am somewhat 
poorer than I was.' And, while I encourage myself in this 
way in the Lord my God, and hope, in opposition to my feel- 
ings, (as if all were against me,) that all is working together 
for my good; what can I say more appropriate to animate, 
counsel, and solace you ? You have trials, indeed, which I 
have not : but the heart knoweth its own bitterness. However^ 
without determining any thing in that respect, nay, supposing 
yours ten times the greater, the difference is nothing to~the 
Almighty Saviour, whose strength is perfected in our 
weakness. Trust in him ; submit ; call upon him ; wait for 
him. Persevere in endeavouring to win over all around you, 
to say. We will go with you^for God is with you, I hope I do 
not forget you daily in my prayers, or any of yours. Pray for 
me and mine." 

The accounts of his infirmities and of his labours — such la- 
bours as would be found too great for most men in sound health, 
go hand in hand together. 

Rewrites, Dec. 10, 1818: '^Preparing copy, fiwe sheets, 
(forty quarto pages,) a week, and correcting proofs, together 
with the desire of the partners to have the Concordance car- 
ried on, purposing ere very long to begin to print it, (as much 
approving the plan of a revised specimen which I sent,) makes 
me shrink unduly from letter- writing. / never studied each 
day more hours than I noio do.''^ 

"February 18, 1819. Never was a manufactory more full 
of constant employment, than our house : five proofs a week 
to correct, and as many sheets of copy to prepare : and, alas ! 

Mr. seems to stand his part as to health, worse than I do. 

The first volume is nearly finished, and I hope much improved ; 

25 



290 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV.I 

yet I feel more and more dissatisfied, as discerning more andl 
more the defects. What [ have lately been finishing off, as to ' 
the Concordance, is fully approved : but I can do so httle novi^, 
that I fear it will never be finished 

^^ So I have lived to enter on my seventy-third year, which I 
never expected ; and am still able to study and preach. May 
it be to good purpose ! My feelings are often very uneasy : 
but I am free from great and sharp suffering. Pray for me, 
that I may be patient and ready." 

April 23, 1819, to his youngest son : — "Just when I was 
thinking to answer you, I was seized with a severe cold, which, 
after some variations, at length, on the first of this month, 
brought on a fever : and it proved a more sharp attack than I 
have had for some years. Nearly a week I was so far confined 
to my bed as to do nothing. Two Sundays I was disabled 
from preaching : and last Sunday, with great difl^culty, I per- 
formed one service. I have also recovered hitherto very slow- 
ly, and am continually harassed by sickness ; so that I neither 
have appetite for food, nor take any without fear of very unea- 
sy consequences. Yet, I have gradually been restored to my 
usual ability of studying, and fill up my hours nearly as before ; 
but with increasing debility and weariness. This, indeed, 
must be expected in my seventy-third year, and I would not 
complain : for surely goodness and mercy have followed me all 
my days. . . . But, besides sickness, my employments are a 
more fiill excuse for not writing letters, than most have. Four 
or ^ve proof sheets every week : on an average, each costs one 
or other of us six hours revising : this, besides preparing an 
equal quantity of copy, and other engagements. One, in 
Psalms, that arrived last night has taken me up already almost 
four hours, and will take up others of us above three hours 
more. But it is a good, and even pleasant employment, and I 
rejoice in it. — Sickness has been very prevalent in this neigh- 
bourhood, especially typhus fever : several have died 

Our little village has been preserved from it. Some of the in- 
habitants appear more hopeful than they were, and the congre- 
gations, as well as several instances, I hope, of conversion, 
have been much more encouraging than for several years last 
past ; but what will take place when I am removed, or laid 
aside, I cannot say. Many will, I fear, turn dissenters ; and 
our dissenters are not of the best sort. But T must commit the 
whole to the Lord. Establish thou the work of our hands., yea., 

the work of our hands establish thou it I I would not 

have you yield to depression about your public labours. If 
discouragement lead you to more fervent prayer, and to devise. 



1813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 291 

if you can, more decided means of coming at the heart and con- 
science ; if you take heed to yourself and doctrine^ and con- 
tinue in them; your labour will not be in vain. You may toil 
all nighty and take nothings but, after a time, you shall have 
better success. It seems that Harborough is your present 
place : I should, indeed, rejoice, if a more permanent station 
were allotted you Remember, however, how much bet- 
ter it is to do a little good, substantial good, than, by smooth 
and false doctrine, to obtain crowded congregations, and do 
them mischief. Proper means, indeed, should be used, to 
bring forth your parishioners ; and perhaps a short printed 
address to them, solemn, faithful, affectionate, might be bless- 
ed. But our usefulness does by no means depend on crowded 
congregations; nor is it at all proportioned to them. Regene- 
ration and conversion must be individual : and, even if one in 
ten of those who do attend should, by God's special grace, be 
quickened from the death of sin, within two or three years ; 
these will help, by their example, influence, and prayers, and 
prove instruments of bringing forth others. Uniformly, as far 
as I can see, my usefulness, as a preacher, Jias been greatest, 
where my congregations have been small and discouraging ; 
and great depression about my w^ork has preceded success. 
Wait, and pray, and hope : be steadfast^ immoveable^ i^c/' 

A small contribution to a letter, dated August 12, exhibits 
him thus bearing up against depressing circumstances and pain- 
'flil feelings. 

'■'• Several events which have lately occurred, and many 
things respecting others in the neighbourhood, concur with my 
own rather dejected feelings, to render me more melancholy 
just now than usual. But why art thou so heavy ^ O my soul ? 
and why art thou so disquieted within me ? Hope still in 
God^ for I shall yet praise him, — Hitherto he hath helped us. 
May he help us to thank him, submit to him, and trust 
him !" 

December 6, 1819 ; he thus expresses his opinion on a sub- 
ject which has, of late, drawn a considerable share of public 
attention, and will probably, if the measures, which have been 
adopted in certain quarters, should be persisted in, draw still 
more. 

" In general, it appears to me, that the laws lately made 
have changed the episcopal executive power into a legislative 
one, without Parhament being at all aware of it ; and that it 
would be well if some fully considered, judicious, and calm at- 
tempt of an enlarged kind, could be made to state the case fair- 
ly to the different members of the legislature. But I consider 
it as, by no means, exclusively the cause of the curates : for it 



'292 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

might be so acted upon in respect of conscientious incumbents, 
as to drive them into the dilenuna of either resiorning their li- 
vings, or retaining their incomes and responsibility^ while they 
could do nothing to answer that responsihility ; nay, must wit- 
ness those officiating as their curates, who attempted to destroy 
the fruits of then* labours, and poison their flocks. This might 
be my case, iff should live till quite disabled for service. — The 
very title of '' The Curates'* Appeal,* seems to be exceptionable ; 
as if curates alone w^ere concerned : whereas, it is a common 
concern of all who are under episcopal jurisdiction, and should 
be taken up as such, if at all." 

With this extract, we may not imprc»perly connect another, 
from a letter which he wrote in 1815, to a young clergyman of 
high respectability, who was refused priest's orders, on grounds 
which the extract itself will sufficiently explain. 1 the rather 
insert it, because, while other passages, which have been intro- 
duced, demonstrate him to have been a strenuous advocate for 
submission to authority, this will show what limits he fixed, on 
one side, at least, to that duty. 

'^ I am, indeed, overdone with stated and occasional engage- 
ments, and especially at present But your case is one that 

must, in some measure, be attended to, and without farther de- 
lay. It is a common cause 

'^ I and my brethren, with whom I have talked over the sub- 
ject, are decidedly of opinion, that you ought, by no means, to 
quit your curacy, unless you are compelled to do it ; but to go 
on with your ministry, as a deacon, in the manner you before 
did. ... By all means stand firm, and let the bishop, by a di- 
rect act of authority, turn you out, and then the real ground of 
it may be more clearly stated and ascertained. I need hardly 
say, that his requiring you tosign his explanation was, ipsofacto^ 
to viake a netv article by his own single authority, and to re- 
quire, not the subscription legally to be required, but one alto- 
gether illegal; and which, if admitted, and tacitly yielded to, 
may become a precedent, and convert our limited government, 
(limited in church as well as state,) into an arbitrary and ty- 
rannical one. Every bishop may, by the same rule, put his 
own construction on any article, or clause of an article. A man 
may be required to sign one set of articles when ordained dea- 
con, another when ordained priest, another when instituted, 
&c. No authority but that of an act of Parliament can give 
any bishop a right thus to add to the articles to be subscribed : 
and, however meekly and politely it be done — siiaviter in mo- 
do^ yet fortifer in re — his lordship must be shown that you un- 
derstand it in this light ; and that the public must be informed 
of the transaction in this view of it, if coercive measures be 



resorted to. . . . No matter what the new article is, however 
unexceptionable ; the imposing of it is an act of illegal assump- 
tion of authority. The apostle's conduct, in respect of the 
magistrates at Philippi, shows, that it is perfectly consistent 
with Christian meekness to stand up for the law of our country, 
against those, who, professing to administer it, act in direct 
violation of ir. And Mr. Gisborne's late letter to the Bishop 
of Gloucester, respecting the Bible Society, shows, that the au- 
thority of a diocesan is subject to legal limitations, as well as 

that of a magistrate I cannot be sorry that a case of this 

kind is hkely to come to some public decision ; that it may be 
known what our superiors can, and what they cannot, legally 
require : and I am satisfied, that, if, to the meekness and dis- 
cretion already shown, you add Christian fortitude and patience, 
it will terminate to you also creditably and comfortably. May 
God direct, strengthen, and bless you !" 

Another death occurred in the family near the end of this 
year — that of my (own) mother's sister, who was also united 
to us by additional ties. Her husband, to whom several letters 
inserted in the earlier parts of this work were addressed, had 
died likewise within the period of this chapter, in 1815. 

On the present occasion my father writes — 

" December 9, 1819. Your account of Mrs. E. is conso- 
ling, and I desire to be very thankful. I think she was about 
my age. Your uncle, in his eighty-sixth year, continues nearly 
as usual ! but my infirmities grow upon me, though gradually, 
and I cannot expect to continue long. Pray that God may 
give me stronger faith, more lively hope, and more patient re- 
signation ; for I am grievously deficient. I am as fully em- 
ployed, however, as ever ; and besides all the rest, I have un- 
dertaken to manufacture a shorter book from my answer to 
Paine. The new edition of the Bible is my main work : we 
are now in Isaiah : but I fear my Index and Concordance will, 
after all, come to nothing, for I have now no time for it." 

Deaths, as I admonished the reader to expect, crowd upon 
us in the progress of this chapter. The events which I have 
now to record are all of that nature. The next was one in 
which the nation sympathized, though not with that pang of 
anguish and disappointment which it had felt for the loss of the 
Princess. I find it thus adverted to in a letter dated February 
17, 1821. 

"Your father was enabled yesterday, (his birth day,) to 
preach a most suitable, and, I think, admirable sermon on the 
dear old king, from Psalm xxxix. 5, which seemed to give 
much satisfaction, except to , The last head of the 

25* 



discourse was on the duties to which we are called in the pre* 
sent state of things ; in which, speaking of the evil of coales- 
cing with blasphemers and infidels, he observed, that he thought 
almost all the truly pious, among dissenters as well as church- 
men, would stand aloof from such characters ; and mentioned 
with much approbation the speech of Mr. Hinton, at the Oxford 
meeting, and the protests made by the Wesley an Methodists, 
The church was very full, and the people very attentive." 

The death of my father's aged, and, for very many years 
past, only brother, immediately followed. My sister, adverting 
to it, observes, (March 8th,) ••'■ The same letter which brought 
this account, seems to indicate that my aunt Webster can last 
but a very short time longer. — This breaking up of the family 
affects me deeply, as it seems to bring nearer to my view that 
dreadful stroke, which we cannot hope very long to escape, 
and for which my mind is notwithstanding wholly unprepared. 
The last time 1 saw our beloved father, he said to me with 
peculiar emphasis, ' You must try to wean yourself from 
me : I shall not, I cannot be with you long : it is cruel to pray 
for my life.' " 

Within little more than a month, this anticipation respect- 
ing Mrs. W. was realized. My father wrote to her son, 
April 7th : 

" Your account of your mother is in one view very grievous, 
but in another highly consolatory, and suited to excite grati- 
tude. I hope ere this she is somewhat relieved and recovered : 
though neither of us can expect more than mitigations and 
alleviations. I need hardly add, that, as far as my constant 
prayers avail for her support, comfort, and blessedness, she 
has, and long has had them ; as well as you and your family. 
Give my best love to her, and assure her of this. It is all I 
can do. I hope we shall ere long meet in a world, where sick- 
ness and sorrow will be no more, because sin will be for ever 
excluded 

" P. S. Pray for me ; not that I may live, but that my faith, 
hope, love, and patience, &c., may be invigorated, and that 1 
may finish my course with joy." 

And again, on the 22d of the same month as follows : 

" When I received yours, I was just beginning to recover 
from a rather dangerous attack of sore throat and fever, which 
reduced me so much, that I fully expected to have been deli- 
vered from the burden of the flesh before my suffering sister. 
Two Sundays I have been silent : I mean to try to preach once 
to-morrow, but feel very incompetent ; and am convinced my 
work is nearly done. I am, however, now left, beyond all 



probability, the only surviver of our once numerous family — 
tottering on the brink of the grave. So soon passeth it away^ 
and we are gone. Oh that i could adopt St. Paul's words 
under all — None of these things move me, &:.c. : but, alas 1 I 
am like an old vessel, shatiered by many storms, and now 
scarcely able to stand a moderate gale of wind. Pray for me, 
that I may have more faith, hope, longmg love, patience, sub» 
mission, meekness, &c. 

" After what you wrote of your dear mother's sufferings, in 
your former letter ; and after reading the contents of your late 
letter ; however nature may feel, I cannot, in my judirment, 
but consider her release as a matter of thankfulness : and it is 
highly refreshing to learn, how the Lord prepared her before 
he took her hence. In her case, I trust ail is well. May her 
words be remembered by you, and the prayers, which she of- 
fered while with you, be abundantly answered to you and 
yours!" 

At this period, I received a letter from Aston : but the only 
insertion which it contained from my father's hand was in these 
words, ^^ Only be of good courage, man !" They related to a 
sermon which I was preparing to preach before the Prayer 
Book and Homily Society. I give them as characteristic. 
Thus did he persevere, even when weighed down and drooping 
himself, in animating others to zeal and boldness in the service 
of his great Master. 

The sermon just alluded to, brought me into the south about 
this time, and afforded the opportunity of taking two of my 
daughters to visit their grand-father and other relatives. I 
shall insert two short extracts from letters received from 
one of them, who did not reach Aston till after my own return 
to Hull. 

^^ Aston, June 17, 1820. We came hither on Thursday. 
We found all pretty well : but I was very sorry and surprised to 
see the alteration which has taken place in my dear grand-papa's 
tooks since I last saw him. My aunt had told me I should see 
a great difference ; but I did not suppose it would be near so 
great. This, with the ruinous appearance of the house,"^ 
seemed to make a melancholy impression upon me at first. 
I thought every place looked altered, and appeared gloomy ; 
though now that I have been here a day or two, it does 
not appear near so much so." 

"Aston, June 29, 1820. My grandpapa is but poorly, 
though I think not much worse than usual. It is astonishing 
that he bears the heat so well as he does. [The thermometer 

* This will be explained in the next Letter, of September 21. 



was from 84 to 86 in the middle of the day.] He still works 
in the garden every day after dinner, when it is hotter than at 
any other time, and does not complain much of it. He 
preaches with great animation, though he often seems scarcely 
able to speak before he goes into the pulpit : but, when he be- 
gins his sermon, he seems so taken up with it, that he appears 
to forget his fatigue, and every thing else but his subject." 

The parting scene with these two girls, which proved final 
as far as their grandfather was concerned, was very striking. 
I wish it were in my power to state more particularly, what 
passed : but a short extract of a letter, written a few days after, 
from Aston, to my sister, is the only memorandum I have upon 
the subject. 

'' Our Hull guests left us last Friday. (July 28.) The 
dear girls were almost broken-hearted on the occasion : and 
the study, the morning of their deparrure, might justly be call- 
ed Bochim,^ The Scripture that came in order happened to 
be Jacob's blessing his grand-children! (Heb. xi. 2!, (fee.) 
Your father could hardly proceed : and we all wept abundantly. 
He said, except his own children, he never was so affected at 
parting with any before." 

In the autumn of the same year I was enabled to take my 
wife, two others of my daughters, and my two sons, to pay 
him their last visit. Here too the parting was most affecting, 
while laying his hands upon the heads of the children, he pour- 
ed forth his benedictions and prayers over them, and sobbing 
aloud, repeated the words, ^^ One generation goeth^ and another 
cometh^^^ and added, ''' but the one point of importance is, 
whither we go 1" 

For a brief account of what followed our departure, I was 
indebted to my sister. 

"October 10, 1820, Our dear father appeared much af- 
fected, and looked deplorably ill after he parted with you all : 
but he revived in the evening, and was better than I expected 
to see him. He said to me, ^ Well, this day is over : a day I 
have looked forward to with much dread, and I cannot but feel 
thankful that it is.' — His feelings of a kind and tender nature 
seem to become more acute, while all those of an angry and 
harsh kind seem nearly dead. This strikes me more and more 
every time I see him ; and, as I believe the contrary is the natu- ^' 
ral effect of old age and disease, the influence of religion appears I 
the more evident." 

What is here described was indeed true to an extraordinary 
degree concerning my dear father. It had long been delight- 

* Judges ii. 



1813 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 297 

ful to observe how every thing, which might once have appear- 
ed harsh or rugged in his natural temper, had ahnost entirely 
melted away : and now, at this late period, it was deeply affect- 
ing to observe, how if he had dropped a word that seemed to 
himself (others perhaps had not perceived it,) impatient, or suit- 
ed to wound the feelings of anv one, though ever so slightly, he 
would presently, with tears stealing down his cheeks, give his 
hand to the party concerned, and ask forgiveness. 

Immediately after I left him, he wrote to tiis nephew, the Rev. 
T. Webster, a letter on which Mr. W., in handing it to me, 
makes the remark, ''' Considering my obligations to him, the 
occasion was utterly unworthy such notice : I only send this us 
the last letter received from him." The reader will, I trust, 
think with me, that it contains such a picture of the waiter's 
mind as ought not to have been kept back. 

The fact was this : Mr. W. had visited him, and, finding him 
unavoidably engaged in expensive repairs of his parsonage 
house, had left in his study a very affectionate note enclosing 
lOZ. towards the charge. My father had delayed to acknowledge 
this, till he felt pained and mortified at his own neglect. At 
length, however, he wrote, 

^''September 21, 1820. You must no doubt have for some 
time regarded me as greatly deficient in gratitude, love, or at- 
tention, in not noticing the kind note and liberal enclosure which 
you left on my mantle-shelf; and I am conscious that I have 
been faulty, though not from want of affection and gratitude .' 
as my constant prayers for you and all yours will at length tes- 
tify How [ have felt and do feel, you will know better, 

should you live to your seventy-fourth year ; or to be as much 
of a bruised reed in that respect [as to infirmites, &.C.] as I 
am. — You and yours had before a place in my daily prayers, 
as near relations^ and you as a minister : but you have now a 
place in them as one of my benefactors^ into whose heart God 
has put it to be kind tome for his name's sake. (Phil. iv. 14, 
17, 18.)— The expenses of my repairing^ or almost re-found- 
ing my house will be considerable : but I have some hope, a^ 
one consequence of it, that by means of the instructions he has 
received at Aston, one of the persons employed has been led to 
discover, that his own soul was built on a still worse founda- 
tion than my house ;• and induced to build on a tried and ap- 
proved one. If not disappointed in this, I shall have rich 
amends. — My infirmities so increase upon me, that I have not 
lately been able to officiate more than once on the Lord's day : 
and I have many doubts whether I shall be able to continue 
even that long. My son John has been with me three Sundays. 
.... He and his left us with many tears on both sides, the other 



298 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

day. — I am very desirous, if it could be done, to have some as- 
sistance, that my little flock might still be fed ; and especially 
that, at times when I can do nothing, they might not be quite 
as sheep without a shepherd : but hitherto I can form no plan, 
so as to succeed in it. . . . May God bless you, in your soul, 
and in your ministry, and in your family, and to your pupils, 
and in all temporal things, in subserviency to his spiritual bless- 
ings !" 

The following is an extract of a letter, which I soon after 
received from him : 

"October 27, 1820. I have lately received several numbers 
of the ^ Sailor's Magazine.' It is surprising to what extent 
the endeavours to excite a religious spirit among sailors are 
carried ; and, though there are many things that might be deem- 
ed wrong, and blundering, so to speak, and a measure of en- 
thusiasm, especially as to conversions, yet there seems nothing 
antinomian or sectarian ; and I cannot but think that God is 
blessing, and will bless the endeavours ; and I feel more exci- 
ted to pray for this hitherto neglected description of our fellow- 
sinners, than formerly. — I have sent the Committee a letter, 
and a small subscription." 

It is observable that the latest letter I have seen of his wri- 
ting, and I have reason to believe it the last he ever wrote, (for 
it is dated March 6th, after his last illness commenced,) relates 
to this subject. It is to his bookseller, Mr. Seeley, desiring that 
he would send him, among other things, the subsequent num- 
bers of the " Sailor's Magazine," in which he evidently still 
felt much interested. 

On the day after the letter just inserted, he wrote to the Rev. 
D. Wilson, concerning a paper which he had drawn up on the 
subject of final perseverance, and concerning the notes which 
Mr. W. had taken of one or two of his later sermons. He 
says, " I can have no objection to the insertion in the Christian 
Observer of any notes you made of the sermon you refer 
to. In fact, I think such notes of several of my later sermons 
would be far preferable to the general sermons which I have 
published : but I cannot take them ; and it would not do for 
them to com.e from me : I am a very unpopular writer of ser- 
mons. . . . 

" As to the Concordance, it is adjourned sine die. After 
years of labour, and considerable expense, I relinquished it, 
that I might attend to what appeared to me more directly the 
improvement of my talent, and the use of my few remaining days. 
A few months might have completed it ; but I deliberately de- 
termined, in this respect, to take my labour for my pains, and 
to expect neither credit, nor profit, nor even usefulness for my 



1 8 1 3 182 1 .] TO KIS LAST ILLNESS. 299 

labours. They kept me out of mischief, as I said to you, and 
I think, prepared me for revising my Commentary to better ad- 
vantage, especially by adducing references to notes throughout, 
M^hich may in some measure answer, to the purchasers of the 
new edition, the end of a topical index. Should I be spared, 
"which is not likely, to conclude the revisal, and have any mea- 
sure of ability for study, I should probably labour to produce 
the Concordance of names, and the Topical Index, apart from 
the rest. The former is already finished, in a manner, 1 think, 
nearly complete : but it wants separating from the other parts 
of the voluminous manuscripts." 

On the same subject of the Concordance, he wrote to me, 
December 14th, in consequence of my putting the question, 
" Does not Cruden answer every practical purpose ?" as fol- 
lows : 

" The errors and deficiencies in Cruden are tenfold more 
than are generally suspected ; and I believe several reasons in- 
duce even the proprietors to wish to substitute a new work, un- 
der a new name, in the place of it. . . . Had I not been impe- 
ded by age and infirmity, and unexpectedly taken oflf from com- 
pleting it, by the opportunity of superintending the new edition 
of the Bible, I am persuaded it would have been published. 
As it is, I have my labour for my pains. But the will of the 
Lord be done. — The Topical Index, if executed at all, must be 
made by one who is thoroughly acquainted with the whole work, 
and enters into the spirit of it. The projected one, if ever 
completed, will, I am persuaded, be acceptable to many pur- 
chasers of the several editions of the exposition. . . . 

^^ I grow more and more infirm. My sickness seems incura- 
ble ; and I am often oppressed with asthma : yet I go on doing 
something." 

As this is the last mention that occurs of the Index and Con- 
cordance, t shall here observe, that a Topical Index to my fa- 
ther's Commentary, upon a plan approved by himself, is in a 
course of preparation, and that his whole mass of papers, (a 
very large one,) pertaining to the Concordance, is in the hands 
of the person best qualified to turn them to account, if that 
should be judged practicable and expedient. If any reader 
should be disposed to regret his having employed so much time 
and labour upon a work which may very probably never be 
executed, I would mention, besides its having, no doubt, mate- 
rially contributed to the improvement of his References and 
Commentary, what he once said to me upon the subject, which 
reminded me of the beautiful anecdote in Dr. Buchanan's life^ 
concerning the correction of the proof sheets of the Syriac 
Testament: ''Whether," said my father, ''this work ever 



300 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CIIAP. XV* 

comes to any thing or not, it repays me for my labour, by the 
dehfrhl 1 receive; from having the whole body of Scri|)ture thus 
kept constantly revolving before me." Tlie veriest drudgery 
as inany would esteenj it, about the sacred volume, is not, it ap- 
pears, barren of enjoyment, and even present reward. 

At the beginning of the ensuing year, he speaks of dejection 
which he terms '•'• unaccountable," at times oppressing him. 
To others, however, who consider his age, his circumstances, 
as being always confined to one spot, his constant indisposition, 
his extreme di afiess, his frame worn down by incessant labours, 
it will rather apjx^ar wonderful that he should have been able 
to summon uj) resolution to write and speak, and act as he did, 
than unaccountable that his spirits should sometimes iiave fail- 
ed him. Brighter gleams, however, from time to time, shone 
upon his mind, when he looked beyond the present scene. To 
his servant inquiring of him, at this period, how he did, he re- 
plied, '-'- Very poorly : 1 shall soon be at home ;" and he added, 
'^Oh how my heart leaps and exults within me, at the thought of 
so very soon joining the glorious company before the throne of 
God !" 

February 16, 1821, he wrote his last letter to his old friend, 
Dr. Ryland, of Bristol, as follows — 

''• iVly dear Sir, — My inlirmities and diseases grow upon me, 
and leave me little tune or heart for many things which f should 
otherwise rejoice to do ; especially as to correspondence. You 
must, then, excuse apparent neglect." — The next paragraph 
relates to Dr. Carey, and has been inserted in an early part of 
this work. 

^^ Your account of your sister's death, and of her conversa- 
tion with [)oor old Dr. , is in itself very interesting, and to 

me especially. He was a very kind and generous friend to me 
many years ago : but, alas ! my feeble endeavours and prayers 
for his good have hitherto been in vain. May God bless your 
beloved dying sister's faithful attempt. 

*'' I wish we could do something to aid your mission : but 
I can only pray. 1 have no ability of moving from my obscure 
village, and my means of other kinds are less than they were 
some time past. 

'^ Indeed I do not expect to continue long. O pray for me, 
that my faith, hope, love, patience, and fortitude may be in- 
creased ; and that J may finish my course with joy : for I am 
apt to be impatient, unbelieving, and cowardly. 

'' I rejoice that you are able to go from place to place, in 
your services of love ; may the liOrd prosper you in all ! Could 
you call at little Aston, you would meet with a hearty welcome, 
and be sure to find us at home. 



1 8 1 3 — 1 82 1 . J TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 30 1 

" Mrs. S. joins me in hearty Christian remembrance to you. 
Mrs. R., and all yours. May God bless you and all yours, 
and every work and labour of love in which j'ou engage ! 1 
remain, my dear old friend, and fellow labourer, yours faith- 
fully, Thos. Scott." 

His last letter to me was dated a few days after, February 
23. In reply to his complaints of dejection, I had reminded 
him of the remarkable sentence which he had uttered at the 
meeting of our family party two years and a half before, and 
had quoted it at length, as it has been given above — his answer 
is very striking. 

" Dear John, — My deliberate judgment, on the whole, is the 
same as I expressed in conference with you and others. Good- 
ness and mercy have followed mc, ^^c. Perhaps, when warm- 
ed with the subject, I spake more strongly of my own personal 
confidence, than my habitual feelings warrant : but my deject- 
ed feelings are often perfectly unaccountable, and the least mat- 
ter makes me subject to them. But I trust all will end well. 
Yet I apprehend, that to die of lingering disease and infirmity, 
shut out from ordinary resources of refreshing intercourse and 
employment, requires at least as much patience, and as strong 
supports, as the sufferings of a martyr in other circumstances : 
and the want of duly expecting this is one reason, [ suppose, 
why many excellent worn-out old men have been dejected. U 
came upon them unexpectedly, and disconcerted them. 

" I have not seen Dr. Milner's Sermons ; but will procure 
them. 

'' I hope that notwithstanding all interruptions and difficulties, 
and your own fears and feelings, it is appointed for you to, &c. 
&/C. If you have not that snare^ which, being aware of it, you 
will more watch and pray against, some other will come in its 
stead. Such must be the case, while, with sin dwelling in us^ 
we live in sucii a world as this. Had I had those views of arduous- 
ness, importance, and awful responsibility, when I engaged in 
my Commentary, which I have at present, I should have shrunk 
from the service with trepidation. I have much to be humbled 
for, and have had many painful rebukes, — and still have : yet 
probably it was better that I engaged than if I had not. We 
do nothing from perfectly pure motives ; yet we must occupy 

with our modicum of talent as we can 

* " I can only add my love, and most endearing remembrances 
to dear Frances, (whom I especially think of in my prayers,) 
and Jane, and Fanny, Anne, Mary, John, dz^c. &c. May God 
bless you and all of them, and make all of them blessings to 
others long after I am gone. Let the children of thy servants 

26 



302 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

continue^ and their seed be established before thee! (Psalm 
cii. 28.) 

I am, dear John, your affectionate father, 

Thomas Scott. ^ 

"I have revised copy to the end of Thessalonians." 

Thus his correspondence with me closed : a more wise, more 
pious and holy, or more affectionate conclusion of it f could 
not have desired. My next letter from Aston brought the ti- 
dings of his fatal illness. 

Four days after the preceding date, he wrote to the husband 
of his deceased sister, Mrs Burgess. The death referred to in 
this letter is that of the niece to whom some letters already in- 
serted were addressed. 

^^ February 27, 1821. I am grown very infirm and diseased, 
and have little time or heart for letter- writi fig : yet the afflic- 
tive tidings of your daughter's almost sudden death, joined to 
iny nephew W.'s letter, induce me to undertake a few lines to 
you. — I do greatly sympathize with you under the heavy afflic- 
tion : yet there were many circumstances respecting it which 
may prove consolatory and supporting. . . . 

^' My heart's desire and prayer for you is, that you may be 
saved : and in one way or other you and yours are seldom for- 
gotten in my prayers any day, and often are repeatedly remem- 
bered May God bless you and afl yours ; and gather in 

those that are not gathered ; and be your comforter in sorrow, 
your supporter in old age, your hope in death, and your portion 
for ever 1 Pray for me and mine. I am, dear brother, yours 
affectionately, Thomas Scott." 

On the same day, he wrote his last letter to his friend in 
Northumberland, which I shall insert almost entire. 

'* Dear Mrs. R , A letter from you, though to spread 

your troubles before me, seems a refreshment to me, as it re- 
minds me of former times ; and because I consider all who are 
converted by your means, or in answer to your prayers, as in 
some measure the fruit of my former labours. But I am now 
old (in my seventy-fifth year,) and infirm, and diseased in vari- 
ous ways, and incapable of much exertion ; yet I still preach 
once every Lord's day, and expound in my house in the evening, 
I am also yet employed with my pen, almost as much as for- 
merly, in preparing and superintending a new stereotype edition 
of my family Bible ; but with painfulness and weariness, which 
leave me little time or spirits for correspondence. I bless God, 
<however, that, though excluded by deafness from much conver- 
sation, my eye-sight is not materially impaired ; and I can use 
my pen as nimbly as ever. 



ISl 3 182 1 .] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 30o 

" I can sympathize with you in your feelings concerning your 
children, and children's children. All nny children are, I trust, 
serving God : and my anxiety, as far as that is concerned, is 
about my grand-children, of whom I have nineteen, and expect 
a twentieth very soon I pray in hope, that they will be ga- 
thered one by one, though most of them after my death, and in 
this hope, I use such means as 1 can : and desire to leave the 
whole WMth a sovereign God who delighteth in mercy. 

•"^ You must go on blessing God for what he has done ; using 
what means you can with those that are yet without and the 
farthest off; and persist in prayer for them. You must stir up 
such of your children as serve God to do what they can — and 
probably, if zealous with a loving and prudent zeal, they may 
do more than you can,— and to concur with you in prayer for 
them ; and thus you must endeavour to bow in submission to 
God ; to wait his time ; to be wilhng to leave the world with- 
out witnessing their conversion ; yet hoping and praying that 
they Will at length be converted. The promises of God to his 
people are so far encouraging* yet he has not absolutely enga- 
ged for the conversion of all and every one : and we must leave 
that painful subject, (^casting all our care on God^) till the 
bright world, to which we are going, shall fully satisfy us that He 
did all wisely and well. 

" I also sympathize with you as to your minister ; and do 
think it not only very hard as to him, but somewhat disgraceful 
as to the congregation, that a frugal maintenance cannot be 
raised for him. And as he ^ does not make the people uneasy,' 
were I among you, I would try to do it for him. I think his 
decided friends, though not rich should rather overstep usual 
bounds of contribution, trusting in the Lord, on such an emer- 
gence ; and become bold beggars in his cause, where they would 
rather suffer than ask any thing for themselves. . . . 

^^ I can truly say I seldom forget you and yours. . . I have 
lost my only brother, aged eighty-six, and my only sister, aged 
seventy-seven, during the last year : and am the only surviver 
of thirteen children ; and am dropping into the grave. May 
we be well prepared to go whenever the summons comes ! 
Pray for me and mine : for me especially, that God would give 
me stronger faith ; more lively assured hope ; more patience ; 
more love ; that I m^y finish my course with joy. Earnestly 
begging of our most merciful God abundantly to bless you and 

all yours, I remain, dear IVlrs. R , your affectionate friend 

and servant, Thos. Scott." 

I shall now close this chapter with a few letters which { have 
reserved, in order to avoid too much, which did not contribute 
to the narrative. 



304 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [cHAP. XV, 

To a neice, left by the death of her mother at the head of a 
family : 

" March 13, 1816. — Your situation at present, though it can- 
not and ought not perhaps to be declined, is one of great im- 
portance and difficulty, and probably of temptation ; consider- 
ing how early days the present are with you as to religion ; and 
how many things, being at the head of such a family, will 
bring under your management, and in your way. But without 
farther information as to particulars, 1 cannot enter on much 
appropriate counsel. You have two duties : they cannot in- 
terfere, but they may seem to do so. You must honour, and 
obey, and oblige your father, in all things, except when a high- 
er duty to God forbids. You must follow his inchnation in 
preference to your own ; but not in preference to the will of 
God : and the more you give up your own will, the more you 
will find Hberty to follow your conscience in respect of the will 
of God. By prudence and consulting propriety ; by meekness 
and gentleness, united with firmness, in things of importance ; 
it may be practicable to you to maintain comfort and respecta- 
bility in your situation, and give a happier turn to all domestic 
concerns. But eagerness and pertinacity in little things, and 
pliableness in things of importance, will undo, or prevent all 
this. 

^'' Allow me to touch one subject which I know requires 
great delicacy. A great deal indeed will depend on your «p- 
pearance and dress. I do not want to convert you into a qua- 
ker, or put you into livery, but I cannot be faithful without say- 
ing that in your present station, and especially as being known 
to pay attention to religion, a considerable revolution will be 
necessary from what I saw when I last met you. You will take 
the hint in good part ; it is well meant ; and, if moderately at- 
tended to, as to style, expense, and attention to dress, will 
have the happiest effects, in every way. Especially it will make 
way for your becoming acquainted with those who would be a 
great help to you, and exempted from the giddy acquaintance of 
those who can only hinder and ensnare you. 

^^ 1 should particularly recommend method to you, in your 
employments. If you would at all prosper in your soul, you 
must secure time for retirement, reading the Scriptures, and 
helps in understanding them ; and prayer, secret, particular, 
earnest prayer. Without this, nothing will be done. This 
time, in your situation, will, I apprehend, be best secured by 
retrenching an hour from sleep, and such things as merely re- 
late to external decoration, in the morning, before your more 
hurrying engagements begin ; and in the evening before it be 
too late. But securing time in the morning is the grand thing ; 



1813 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 305 

not that the other should be neglected : but it vvill necessarily 
be exposed to more interruptions A plan, however, should 
be laid down, and adhered to, with as much regularity, at least, 
as that about our meals. That must sometimes be broken ia 
upon ; yet not often. Above all, as much as possible, secure 
the whole of the Lord's day, and firmly stand out against Sun- 
day-visitings. In addition to this, if you would improve your 
mind and heart, learn to redeem the fragments of time. Have 
a book at hand, that when you are waiting perhaps for your 
father or friends to dinner, or on similar occasions, you may 
not let the little oddments of time elapse, or rather heavily 
drawl on as a burden : but take the book and read a little : and, 
if you hft up a short prayer over what you read, so much the 
better. It is surprising how much I have read and learned in 
these fragments of time, which most people lose. Gather up 
the fragments that nothing be lost. 

'''' I am afraid your influence, at first at least, will be insuffi- 
cient for what I am about to add ; but persevering, firm, and 
mild efforts may do much ; I mean in avoiding late visits^ and 
the late entertainment of visiters. Even among pious persons, 
I scarcely know any thing more hostile to the religion of the 
closet — that is, the religion of the heart and soul. 

^^ What you mention in respect of original sin, lies at the 
bottom of all Christianity ; and w^e never learn any thing else- 
to much purpose, till we become deeply sensible of innate de- 
pravity ; of a moral disease^ which we cannot cure, and have 
not heart of ourselves to cure : but which the Lord alone can 
cure. We ought, however, to seek the cure from Him, as we 
do health from the physician, by applying to him, trusting him, 
following his directions, welcoming his medicines, avoiding 
what he inhibits, <kc. — If you propose any special questions to 
me, in opening your mind as you mention, I will, if able, give 
you the best counsel I can.— I remain your affectionate uncle, 

Thomas Scott." 

To the same. 

'• April 6, 1818. — I am not disposed to prescribe to any one 
an implicit deference to the sentiments or maxims of another, 
however senior or superior : but when the junior or inferior 
differs from the superior, it should be with great caution, and 
many prayers and fears lest the difference should be the effect 
of mistake, or inferior knowledge, judgment, and simplicity^ 
rather than of more correct and scriptural views of truth and 
duty. The peculiarity, which I have sometimes noticed in ap- 
proved characters with some disapprobation, I have in many 
instances lived to regard as the result of deeper experience, 
more enlarged observation, and a more exact knowledge of the 

26* 



306 DISPOSAL OP HIS BIBLE [CHAF. X%\ 

word of God, of the human heart, and of the state of the world 
and the church. 

" I behave that many cordially approve of the general outline 
of the estabhshed church, vi^ho yet dissent from it, even where 
they might hear the genuine gospel preached in the church, 

from some such objection as has to the x\thanasian creed. 

I, however, think that the advantages of our worship so much 
counterbalance what may be thought imperfections, that I am 
cordially attadied to it : though not with such indiscriminating 
partiality as some are. I have little objection to the doctrine, 
or to the spirit of the Athanasian creed. Properly understood, 
it only pronounces the damnatory sentence on those whom the 
Scripture condemns ; and this only in a declarative way, not as 
denouncing them, or imprecating evil upon them. But, as it 
endeavours too particularly to explain what, after all, is incom- 
prehensible : as many have objections to it ; and as it is ap- 
pointed only in the morning service, which is otherwise suffi- 
ciently long ; I do not very frequently use it." . . . 

To a clergyman, the vicar of a large and important parish* 

" August 12, 1819. Reverend and dear Sir, I should count 
it a privilege, if I could suggest any hints, which might help 
you in that most important charge to which the Lord has called 
you : but I especially am without experimental acquaintance 
with the subject. I have, however, made many observations 
on what others have attempted. 

" When curate of Olney, I, as it were, inherited a prayer- 
meeting conducted on the same plan, but not so wild and ex- 
travagant as the prayer-meetings in your parish are ; but I soon 
found it needful or advisable to withdraw, and to leave the 
persons who conducted it to themselves ; neither opposing nor 
countenancing it. Most of them became dissenters, some dis- 
senting ministers. Since that time, I have never had any 
'Opening for any thing of the kind : but I used to advise my 
people when they visited one another, or were visited by rela- 
tions from other places, or met on any occasion, that one of 
them should read a chapter, and that the same person, or some 
other, should pray particularly with the company, and for their 
neighbours, the sick, their minister, and ministers in general, 
and missionaries, and the enlargement, purity, and peace of the 
church : but not to attempt other prayer-meetings. This 
plan seemed to answer every needful purpose : and often, 
when I visited the sick, or went to a distant place, a number 
would collect around me : and I gave appropriate counsel and 
prayed with them. In this village the whole population does 
not much exceed seventy persons, my own family included — 
what a contrast to your parish ! I expound in my kitchen to 



1813 1821»] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 307 

such as attend on a Sunday evening, and pray with them : and 
in winter on the week-day evenings. But we have no praying 
men or praying women, (I mean in public,) either to help or 
hinder us. In a neighbouring village, there are prayer-meet- 
ings, at which some of my congregation attend and assist ; but 
I take no part in respect of them. 

''^ In general, 1 am apt to think it very difficult for a minister 
in the establishment to form, or conduct prayer-meetings, in 
such a manner as that the aggregate good shall not be counter- 
balanced, or even overbalanced by positive evil. But men of 
far greater experience, and capacity of judging, have thought 
otherwise ; among whom, I especially look up to Mr. Walker, 
of Truro, whose reoulations I thought very judicious. But I 
am also, [ fear, prejudiced ; as the evils w hich arose from those 
at Olney induced such an association of ideas in my mind, as 
probably never can be dissolved. — Two or three effects were 
undeniable. 1st. They proved hotbeds^ on which superficial 
and discreditable preachers were hastily raised up ; who, go- 
ing forth on the Lord's day to the neighbouring parishes, in- 
tercepted those who used to attend Mr. Newton. 2dly. Men 
were called to pray in public, whose conduct afterward brought 
a deep disgrace on the gospel. Sdly. They produce a cap- 
tious, criticising, self-wise spirit, so that even Mr. Newton him- 
self could seldom please them. These things had no small ef- 
fect in leading him to leave Olney. 4thly. They rendered the 
people so contemptuously indifferent to the worship of God at 
the church, and, indeed, many of them to any public worship 
in which they did not take a part, that I never before or since 
witnessed any thing like it : and this was one of my secret rea- 
sons for leaving Olney. 

" As what I have written seems to go far towards a negative 
answer to your first question ; it will be needless to give any 
opinion on the modification of such institutions. In general, 
if any are explicitly countenanced by the clergyman, they 
should exactly conform to such regulations as he shall deem ex- 
pedient : or, if he attend, none should oflSciate except himself* 
or some clerical friend or assistant : for it must destroy all mi- 
nisterial authority and influence, for him to be present, while 
one of his flock, a layman, is the mouth of God to the company, 
or of the company in addressing God. It is also an irregula- 
i tity, which cannot be justified to our diocesans or others. 

'' If prayer-meetings cannot be thus conducted, under the 
countenance of the clergyman, it appears to me; that he had 
better leave them, and those concerned in them., to take their 
course, neither directly supporting nor opposing them ; but en- 
deavouring to inculcate those general principles, which may si- 



308 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV, 

lently operate to regulate and purify them ; and using his influ- 
ence with the more teachable and manageable of those con- 
cerned, in private admonitions, counsels, and cautions, nearly 
in the manner which you describe. In the mean time, he must 
lay his account with being less popular than those who more 
humour the people, and give them more importance among 
their brethren ; which is one grand advantage that dissenters 
of every kind have over pious clergymen. 

*^ No caution can be more important, than what relates to 
the persons called forth to take an active part in such services. 
The first proposal should be made with extreme care : for, 
when once a man is considered as one of the praying or ex^ 
pounding persons, it will not be easy to lay him aside, even if 
he become a disgrace, and a distress to most of the company. 
— As to women praying in public in the presence of men, it is 
so antiscriptural, so inconsistent with all the subordination in 
domestic life, and with all that modesty and delicacy, which 
are the chief ornaments of the sex, that I should feel at liberty 
openly to protest against it. But, perhaps, it may not be ex- 
pedient, as yet, for you to do so. Nothing but an undoubted 
prophetical spirit in the woman herself, can render it consistent 
with Scripture. 

" But *• good is done.' God may do good notwithstanding : 
but are we to do evil that good may come ? Does he need our 
misconduct to accomplish his purposes ? Shall we break his 
laws to promote his Gospel ? Good is done : but is not mischief 
also done ? The mischief is the direct consequence ; the 
good by occasion at most. Such men, Mr. Cecil used to say, 
have but one side in their account book : they set down their 
gains, but not their losses : and, these being greater than their 
gains, they become bankrupt. The prejudice excited among 
those without, and the various ways in which, by such prac- 
tices, the success and spread of the Gospel are hindered, (be- 
sides the mischief done to the persons concerned,) warrant the 
assertion,, that they are most grievous evils ; had hills^ endorsed 
sometimes by good men. 

" Upon the whole, I think you are going on in as hopeful a 
manner as can reasonably be expected, and I rejoice in the 
prospect of usefulness, which lies before you. I pray God to 
direct, counsel, and prosper you ; pray for me, especially that I 
may have patience and hope to the end. I am, reverend and 
dear Sir, your friend and servant, 

Thomas Scott." 

To a clergyman who had consulted him upon a question, 
which the letter itself will sufficiently explain. 

"December 20, 1819. Reverend Sir, your letter is written 



1 8 1 3 — 1821.] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS . 309 

in so proper a spirit, and relates to so interesting a subject, that 
I should deem myself favoured if I could give a satisfactory an- 
swer to it. 

'' I have long felt some of the difficulties which you state, in 
respect of direct addresses in worship to the Holy Spirit, per- 
sonally 2ind separately; of which certainly but few are found 
in.the sacred Scriptures. Perhaps, as all our spiritual worship 
must be offered by his sacred teaching and influence on the 
heart and mind ; and, as the grand promise of the New Testa- 
ment, comprising all the rest for spiritual blessings, relates to 
God's giving us, through Christ, the Holy Spirit, of life, light, 
holiness, power, liberty, and love, &c. ; it is less proper that 
our prayers should be offered directly and perscnally to the 
Holy Spirit. — The form of Baptism, into the name of the Fa- 
ther^ of the Sow, and of the Holy Ghost^ seems to me to recog- 
nize God our Saviour, as Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. In 
this view, when God is addressed without personal distinction. 
I consider the address, as made to the God of salvation ; and 
the Holy Spirit included, whether prayer or praise be offered 
' — The trishagion^ or threefold ascription of holiness, to Je/to- 
i?aA, both in the Old and New Testament, seems an act of wor- 
ship to the Holy Spirit, together with the Father and the Son. 
— The form of blessintr appointed by Moses, in this view, im- 
plies a prayer to the Holy Spirit, in the threefold repetitionj 
Numb. vi. 24 — 27 ; as does the apostolical benediction, 2 Cor. 
xiii. 14. — I have no hesitation in my mind, as to the express 
act of adoration, in Rev. i. 4, being offered personally to the 
Holy Spirit, according to the emblematical language of that 
book. And, when salvation is ascribed to our God^ who sitteth 
on the throne^ and unto the Lamh^ I consider the term God as 
denoting the God of salvation, as above explained : and the 
Lamb that was slain^ as referring to the incarnate Saviour's 
propitiation and mediation, through whom we sinners approach 
God with all our worship, and to eternity shall view all our 
salvation as coming to us through his sacrifice. — It appears to 
me, that the reason why the Son is so frequently addressed, 
in both scriptural prayers and adorimr praises, springs from his 
mediatorial character, as God manifested in the fesh ; and as 
God was in Christ reconciling the ivoj'ld unto himself; and as, 
in addressing him who owns us as brethren, we do not forget 
his Deity, and recollect also, that he suffered^ being tempted^ 
that he might succour the tempted. The style of the New Tes- 
tament, is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ ; as that of 
the Old Testament is, the God of Abraham^ or of Isi^ael. but, 
in both, the true God is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, One 
Name^ three persons : and in addressing God. in Christy we 



310 DISPOSAL OF HIS BIBLE [CHAP. XV. 

come to God by Christ, even as if we addressed God as the 
Father of Christ. This seerns clearly exhibited in the apostoli- 
cal practice : Through whom we have access^ by one Spirit^ unto 
the Father, 

'•^ If then we be fully convinced that the Holy Spirit is God, 
and that all divine perfections and operations, together with 
every personal property, are ascribed to him, there can be no 
doubt but he is the object of divme adoration. Where God is ] 
addressed, without distinction of persons, the Holy Spirit is vir- j 
tuaily addressed: all that dependence, gratitude, love, andi 
honour, which are required as due to our God, are required to-| 
wards the Holy Spirit: and therefore worship, and adoring?, 
praise and prayer cannot be improper. Yet, probably, had^ 
not the controversies with Arians and others made way for it, ) 
so large a proportion of personal addresses to the Holy Spirit, * 
would not have been found in our public services. I, however,^ 
feel no dissatisfaction respecting them, though in other acts of 
worship I am not so generally and exphcitly led to address the 
Holy Spirit. 

^^ Should these thoughts induce you to propose any farther 
questions, I will endeavour to answer them. I grow old and- 
infirm, though still employed : but I much need your prayers ; 
and, if you and your friends have derived any benefit from my 
labours, (to God be all the glory !) do not forget me at the throne 
of grace, but pray for me, that God would give me the increase . 
of faith, and hope, and patience ; that I may riot dishonour him 
in my closing scene, or, after preaching to others,, he myself a 
cast-away ; but may finish my course with joy. With prayer 
that God may abundantly bless you and yours, and all your la- 
bours, I am, reverend Sir, your faithful friend and brother, 

Thomas Scott." 

The person addressed, observes, in transmitting me the let- 
ter, ^' As I believe the late Mr. Scott to be the best Bible-scho- 
lar living, being in the possession of the result of his inquiries 
upon the question, I have been and am perfectly at rest upoa 
it." 

His last letter to the Rev. John Mayor, Shawbury, Salop. 

"January 2, 1821. My dear old friend, I am unwiUing to 
deny your request to write a few lines in answer to your kind 
letter ; but multiplied engagements and many infirmities must 
plead for a much shorter letter than I should otherwise write. 

" I am, indeed, very far from good health : 1 am wearing down 
by increasing infirmities, local and chronical diseases, and old 
age, almost seventy-four. — I have not been out of my parish, 
or at the farther end of it, for several years. One service on 
the Lord's day seems to overdo me ; and I have got a curate. 



1 8 i 3 182 1 .] TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 311 

Yet, in my study I apply myself nearly as much as usual, though 
with much uneasiness and weariness. — Well, after all, Surely 
goodness and mercy have followed me all my days^ and^ I hope, 
/ shall dwell in the house of God for ever^ 

''• 1 am thankful that you write as in health and spirits ; and 
for the favourable account you give of your family. May God 
gather them all into his family, and make them and theirs bless- 
ed ! May the children of thy servants continue^ and their seed 
be established before thee! (Psal. cii. 28.) My children, I 
trust, are in the way to heaven, and useful to others. 1 have 
nineteen grand-children : all hopeful, as far as we can see : 
one, I trust, more than hopeful ; and others, I hope, coming 
forward. Pray for them. 

'^ I am as fully aware of 's unfairness, as well as gross 

blunders in quotation, as any book can make me : but he has 
the whole human heart on his side ; and he furnishes some 
plausible arguments to those numbers of ignoramuses, who hate 
the genuine gospel, but are totally incompetent to make any 
reply to it. . . . 

" I have the honour of having as many lies told of me, as 

most men in these days. I never wrote to — whatever I 

thought or said privately, any thing like what is imputed to rne./ 
Challenged repeatedly in a pecuhar style, I found it necessary 
to write a letter dechning the challenge, as civilly as I could 
with sincerity ; and I have no objection to the letter being pub- 
lished in any newspaper, if any choose to do it. He too, though 
less specious, among another company, has all the human heart 
on his side ; but doing g^ood is against wind and tide, and goes 
on slowly ; yet, by God's blessing, surely. — I am sorry for what 
you write about Mr. . . . . Indeed, eager^ vehement^ spe- 
culating Arminianism is most nearly allied to Pelagianisra, 

and the transition is almost imperceptible. No doubt ~ 

and his meaner coadjutor -— — defend Pelagianism, as well as 
Arminianism 

" So you are become a dabbler in prophecy, as almost every 
one is in these days. 1 read, in various ways, almost number- 
less tracts, papers, pamphlets, books, upon the subject of un- 
fulfilled prophecies : but still I cannot prophesy. Nor do I yet 
see reason to alter the opinions, which I have given in my for- 
mer editions of the Family Bible, In Daniel, I have endeavour- 
ed to elucidate and confirm those views : I hope, successfully. 
When I come, should I live so long, to Revelation, I will care- 
fully revise that ; and I will keep your letter, and weigh what 
you have said ; for I desire light from every quarter, and I trust 
sincerely pray daily to be set right where wrong. — At presentJ 
I am decidedly of opinion, that all describing the church, or the 



312 nrs last illness. [chap. xvi. 

new Jerusalem, in the xxi. and xxii. of Revelation, relates to 
the heavenly state : that all relating to the earthly state ends, • 
in the xx. chapter, with the account of the day of judgment : | 
that the coming and reign of Clirist, before and during the I 
millennium, will be spiritual, not personal ; that the resurrection - 
of souls does not mean the resurrection of bodies — but as John 
the Baptist was Elijah ; and that, at last, we are all much in ; n 
the dark, and should not be confident, as our descendants will i || 
know. — If the new Jerusalem — examine its form and size — is 
to be placed literally in Judea, how can all the kings of the 
earth bring their glory and riches into it, — from Mexico, Peru, 
China, Russia, &c. ? and what is to be done with them there ? 
' — But I desist : I can conceive of a figurative, but can form no 
manner of conception of a literal fulfilment : and the whole 

book is allegorical 

'•^ Our best love to Mrs M., and your brother and relations 
in London, and to my god-daughter, Jane. May God bless 
you, and them, and all theirs, and make them blessings ! May 
he grant you and yours a happy year, and many happy years ! 
— Pray that God would increase my faith, hope, and patience, 
especially, during my closing scene, that I may finish my course 
with joy. I remain, dear sir, with much affection and esteem, 
your faithful friend and brother, Thomas Scott,'' 



CHAPTER XVI. 

HIS LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 

Of the last solemn scene of this chapter, the Rev. D. Wil- 
son thus introduces the account which he has already given to 
the public in his excellent funeral sermons. 

"During several years preceding the event itself, his bodily 
infirmities had been gradually increasing. His strength and 
natural spirits at times sensibly failed. His own impression 
was, that his departure was approaching ; and he contemplated 
it with the calmness and tranquillity which I have already no- 
ticed as being implied in the first clause of my text.* He 
preached more than once from the words of St. Peter, with an 
evident reference to his own case. Knowing that 1 must skorth/ 
j)ut off this my tabernacle. He said to me about two years 
since, ^ I feel nature giving way ;' I am weary of my journey, 
and wish to be at home, if it be God's will ; meaning that he 
desired to depart and to be with Christ, The nearer he came 

+ 2 Tim. iv. 6—8. 



1821.] AND DEATH. 313 

to the time of his dismissal, he became the more earnest in 
prayer that God would uphold him during the scenes of suffer- 
ing and trial which mis^ht await him before his last hour, ex- 
pressing, at the same time, the deepest conviction of his own 
weakness and unworthiness, and his constant need of divine 
mercy. He had been particularly anxious, during the entire 
period of his ministry, to be preserved from dishonouring his 
holy profession ; and now, as hfe wore away, he became more 
and more fervent in prayer for grace, that he might not say or 
do any thing, that should lessen the weight of what he had pre- 
viously taught and written." 

What has already appeared in these pages will amply con- 
firm the correctness of these representations. 

Again, after introducing some sentences from the last sermon 
which he heard my father preach, Mr. Wilson proceeds : 
'^ Thus did this holy man continue to speak and act in the near 
view of death. In the mean time, he remitted nothing of his 
accustomed labours. It is but a short time since he wrote to 
one of his children, ^ I believe I work more hours daily in my 
study than ever I did in my life.' Increasing deafness indeed 
precluded him almost entirely from conversation. His spirits 
also failed him more and more, and he would sometimes burst 
into tears, whilst he assured his affectionate family that he had 
no assignable cause of distress whatever. But his judgment and 
habits of close thought seemed to remain unimpaired still. His 
last discourse was delivered on Sunday, March 4ih, from the 
words of the apostle Paul, He that spared not his own Son^ but 
delivered him up for us all^ how shall he not with him also freely 
give us all things ? In the evening of the same day, he ex- 
pounded as usual to several of his parishioners assembled in 
bis rectory, from the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. 
He entered with much animation into both these subjects ; and 
in the evening, he applied to himself, in a very affecting man- 
ner, the prayer of the penitent publican, God he merciful to me 
a sinner. In this striking manner, did he close his public tes- 
timony to the faith which' he had kept during his whole prece- 
ding ministry." 

Very cordially also do I concur in the following additional re- 
marks, with which Mr. W. prefaces the part of his subject to 
I which we are approaching :— 

* " Before I proceed to give some particulars of his most in- 
structive and affecting departure, I must observe that I lay no 
stress on them as to the evidence of his state before God. It is 
the tenour of the life, not that of the few morbid and suffering 
scenes jvhich precede dissolution, that fixes the character. We 
are not authorized by Scripture to place any dependence on 

27 



314 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

the last periods of sinking nature, through which the Christian 
may be called to pass to his eternal reward. The deaths of 
the saints described in the inspired volume are, without excep- 
tion, the concluding scenes of long and consistent previous 
devotedness to the service of God. Such are those of Isaac, 
Jacob, Moses, David. That of Stephen is the only narrative 
of this kind in the New Testament, which regards the article 
of death at all ; and the circumstances in which he was placed, 
as the first martyr of the Christian Church, may well account 
for the exception. The great apostle of the Gentiles, and the 
other inspired founders of the new dispensation, are exhibited 
to us in the holiness of their hves, in the calmness of their ap- 
proach towards death, in the deliberate judgment they form of 
their past labours, in their exhortations to others to supply their 
vacant posts of duty, in their triumphant anticipations of their 
future reward ; but not in the actual moments of their final con- 
flict. It would, therefore, have been no subject of surprise, if 
the last days of our lamented friend had been wholly clouded by 
the natural operations of disease. We should then have drawn 
the veil entirely over them, as in the case of many of the emi- 
nent servants of Christ, in every age. But, though no impor- 
tance is to be attached to these hours of fainting mortahty, 
with reference to the acceptance and final triumph of the dying 
Christian, yet, where it pleases God to afford one of his de- 
parting servants, as in the instance before us, such a measure 
of faith and self-possession as to close a holy and most con- 
sistent life, with a testimony which sealed, amidst the pains of 
acute disease, and in the most impressive manner, all his doc- 
trines and instructions, during forty-five preceding years, we 
are called on, as I think, to record with gratitude the divine 
benefit, and to use it with humility for the confirmation of our 
own faith and joy." 

These remarks premised, I proceed to lay before the reader 
the best account in my power of the deeply affecting scene ; 
which I shall do chiefly in the words of letters written, and 
memorandums made on the spot. This, I trust, will be to the 
reader, who feels himself suflficiently interested in the event, to 
excuse the minuteness of the narration, the most satisfactory 
plan that I can adopt. 

Sunday, March 4, was, as the reader has already been in- 
formed, the day that terminated my father's public ministra- 
tions. Almost immediately afterward he seems to have suffer- 
ed a degree of indisposition, but not such as rendered it neces- 
sary to inform the absent branches of his family before Friday, 
March 16th. A letter of that date brought me this^ intelli- 
gence ; '- Your dear father has, for this last week, been seri- 



1821.] AND DEATH. 315 

ously indisposed. The beginning of the preceding week he 
caught a severe cold. On Friday (the 9th,) he was, however, 
much better of his catarrhal affection, but, on Saturday, was at- 
tacked, in his usual way, with fever, which continued severe 
till Monday, (the 12th,) when it seemed to yield to the usual 
remedies, and he was so much better as to come down stairs 
for a short time. In the night, the feverish symptoms increased. 
He was better again yesterday morning ; but has since been so 
ill that I resolved to send for Dr. Slater. He has just left us this 
afternoon. He says the complaint is quite the same as on for- 
mer occasions^ advises that we should pursue the plan already 
adopted," &c. 

The day after this letter w^as written, my sister quite provi- 
dentially, and as it seemed, notwithstanding many obstacles had 
opposed her journey, went over to Aston ; little expecting what 
she was to meet with there. The next day, Sunday, my second 
brother arrived. The cause of his journey, and the state in 
which he found things, are thus described in a letter of Monday, 
March 19th. 

" — I had sent a man and horse over on Saturday evening to 
ascertain my lather's real state, with directions to return early 
in the morning if he were very ill ; if not, to stay till Monday. 
He returned early yesterday, and brought me an account which 
led me to fear, that, though I travelled with all the speed a 
post-chaise could give, I should scarcely find him ahve. I 
came with a heavy heart : but I am happy to say, the continu- 
ance of immediate alarm had been short ; and as I drew near 
Aston, I met with one or two persons who gave me a more fa- 
vourable account than I had anticipated. I found him, indeed, 
in an exceedingly weak state, but free from the extreme agita- 
tion which he laboured under during the day and night of Sa- 
turday, owing to the violence of the fever. Symptoms, [ think, 
are, on the whole, improving, but I cannot feel very sanguine 
hopes of his ultimate recovery. 

'^ My visit certainly is very painful ; yet, at the same time, 
very gratifying : for it has removed the distressing feeling I had 
about the state of his mind. His gloom, of which J had heard 
a good deal in an indistinct manner, by no means relates to the 
prospects which lie before him. He is perfectly calm and 
cheerful in the view of dissolution ; and seems disappointed at 
the symptoms of recovery. He thought his trials were almost 
over ; and said, that yesterday morning, he had hoped to end 
the sacred services of the day in heaven. Indeed, his wish is, 
decidedly, to depart^ in the confidence that he shall he with 
Christy which is far better. His dejection is manifestly no- 
thing more than the feehng of a mind exhausted by its own 



316 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

exertions : for, owing to his deafness, he has none of that re- 
freshment which others feel from conversation ; so that the 
amusements of his mind are, in fact, equal to the mental exer- 
tions of most men. — His feelings on Sunday, were very dis- 
tressing both to himself and others, and were clearly aggrava- 
ted by a degree of delirium, arising from fever. Yesterday and 
to-day he has been quite calm, and, though too weak to speak 
much, is evidently in a tranquil state. — I brought my eldest 
boy with me, that he might once more see his grandfather, and 
receive his last blessing. He spoke to him for a few minutes 
this morning in a very affecting manner, and pronounced his 
blessing upon him, in a way which, I trust, he will never forget. 
May God grant, that he may walk in the steps which are leading 
his grandfather to glory !" 

The day on which this letter was written, my youngest bro- 
ther arrived at Aston. For myself, a still more urgent call de- 
tained me from the scene, to which duty, as well as inclination, 
would otherwise have led me, and kept me at Hull more than 
a week longer. Almost daily, letters, however, informed me 
of the state of things at Aston. 

That of March 20, reported that '-'- scarcely a hope of reco- 
very remained," and complained still of gloom oppressing the 
revered sufferer's mind. It added ; " No doubt this dejection 
is occasioned, in great part, by disease, as it always comes on 
with the (daily) paroxysm of fever. His hope of final victory, 
indeed, seldom wavers. — He may Hnger some time, and I do 
trust the sun of righteousness will yet shine upon him, and that 
we shall here witness his triumph : but, if not, faith will still 
behold him victorious over every enemy." 

The next day's letter announced nothing new. The follow- 
ing, from my brother, was very gratifying. 

" March 22, Thursday. 1 take up my pen with far greater 
pleasure to-day than I have before done, to write concerning 
my dear father. For though I can say nothing at all favoura- 
ble respecting his health, and, indeed, he appears to be ap- 
proaching very near his end, yet, thanks be to God, the clouds 
which overspread his mind are breaking away, and he talks 
with a placidity and cheerfulness greater than I have before 
seen since I came. — He passed a very distressing night owing 
to the degree of debility induced by the feverish paroxysm of 
yesterday : indeed I much doubted whether he would hve till 
morning. The symptoms have, however, become more mild, 
and this morning he rose above his feelings of bodily uneasiness, 
and mental depression, and seemed to rejoice in hope of the glory 
of God. 

'' Just as we had assembled for family worship, he sent to 



IbJ^l.J AlVD DEATH. ^i 1 

say, that he wished us to meet in his room, and join with him 
^in the Lord's Supper, as a means of grace, through which he 
might receive that consolation which he was seeking. It is ut- 
terly impossible to describe the deeply interesting and affectmg 
scene. The whole family, (with one exception,) and an old 
parishioner were present. The fervour displayed by my dear 
father, his poor emaciated form, the tears and sobs of all pre- 
sent, were almost more than I could bear, with that degree of 
composure, which w^as requisite to enable me to read the service 
so as to make him hear. — But it was a delightful feeling, and 
has done more to cheer our downcast hearts than can well be 
conceived. It seems, moreover, to have been quite a cordial 
to my father's spirits, who adopted, on the occasion, the words 
of the venerable Simeon, in the prospect of dissolution. He 
is now quite calm and like himself; and can clearly discern 
that much of his previous uncomfortable state of mind was 
merely the effect of fever. 

" During a period of great distress from this cause yesterday 
afternoon, he sent for me for the purpose of mentioning ' some- 
thing of a worldly nature.' I expected, of course, that he had 
some communication to make respecting the arrangement of 
his affairs. But, to my no small surprise, he said, it was time 
for planting his usual crop of potatoes for the poor ; and he 
begged that I and my brother would take steps for doing it, in 
a manner best calculated to secure the benefit to those for 
whom it was intended, after his decease I — Here was an in- 
stance of 'the ruling passion strong in death,' such as, I think, 
has not very often been seen." 

The '-'" ruling passion" may be considered as, in this instance, 
combining two ingredients, the love of gardening, and a ••• care 
for the poor," which led my father to turn every nook of waste 
land to account, for their benefit. 

This evening, his son-in-law, the Rev. S. King, joined the 
party at Aston, from London, where he had been detained by 
the threatening illness of his own father. This we shall find 
hereafter alluded to. 

My sister's letter, of the next day, was as follows : 

'^ March 23. Our beloved father still lives, but cannot, we 
conceive, continue many hours. All yesterday, and through 
the night, he remained in so blessed a state of mind, that our 
joy and gratitude almost swallowed up every other feeling." — 
Some sentences of great joy and confidence are then reported, 
which will afterward occur among the memorandums taken 
©f what fell from him ; and it is added : '^ Ere long, however, 
a slight flush on his cheek made us fear that the fever was re- 
turning ; and our fears were soon reahzed. The paroxysm 

27* 



^?T5 MIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAF. XVI. 

came on with great violence, and with it that confusion and 
gloom, which are so distressing to himself and to us. He is 
more calm now, though in a state of extreme suffering. He 
longs for his release, and says, '- All will- be well at last.' Great 
submission to God is displayed throughout, and Thou art right- 
eous, is his language. — We are greatly agitated between pain- 
ful and pleasant feelings : but 1 trust God is with us. The 
scene is instructive beyond expression : and I have felt my 
faith so confirmed, that 1 can hardly help imagining it will ne- 
ver more be shaken. — We try to note down what we can ; but 
who can describe the look^ the manner..,. 

^^ P. S. Afternoon. Dr. Slater is here, and my father has 
talked with amazing energy, and a most minute remembrance 
of all that has passed. — Dr. S. can hardly think his end is veri/ 
near^ 

On Saturday, March 24, my sister wrote: — ^' Our beloved 
father still lives, in great suffering ; but in a state of mind, 
which, though varying, is highly delightful to all who witness 
it. I am so grieved that you are deprived of this consolation, 
which at times seems to raise us above every painful feeling, 
that I am determined to attempt copying some things which 
we have noted down, during the last few days, though aware 
that they will give you httle idea indeed of what has passed." 
-—These memorandums will appear hereafter. In conclusion, 
she adds : ^^ To-day he is free from fever, and in such a state, 
that, were he younger, there would be little doubt of his reco- 
very. But we dare not entertain such an idea. He greatly 
longs to depart, and is disquieted at the thought of what really 
is not very improbable, — a lingering illness His constitution 
is wonderful."... 

" I have given you some of our dear father's words : but the 
way in which they were spoken is beyond all description." 

Dr. Slater of Wycombe is the physician here repeatedly re- 
ferred to ; who, on these and many other occasions, visited my 
father at the distance of twenty miles, as, strictly speaking, a 
^^ professional friend^"* — without any other remuneration than 
that which his generous and ardent mind derived from mini- 
stering to one whom he revered and loved. 

The same day, a letter to the Rev. D. Wilson observes : 
^' He has, with one or two exceptions, had a violent paroxysm 
of fever every day for a fortnight." And, after reporting his 
remark on Mr. W.'s message to him, which will be noticed 
elsewhere, proceeds : " Humility is conspicuous in him to a 
surprising degree, united with a most deep sense of the awful 
responsibility which rests on him, in consequence of his having 
written so much on such important subjects." 



nUYTTj ANO DEATH. ST^^ 

Monday's letter oi^ly reports him " much weaker in body, 
but more calm in mind ; anxious for departure, but yet billing 
to stay, if he-mightdo any spiritual good to any one." 

On Tuesday, March 27, my brother wrote as follows : — 
*^ Our dear father appeared all yesterday evening in a very 
tranquil state, and slept much ; but expecting that he should 
not live through the night. About half-past two this morning, 
Mr. Dawes went to him, and found that he had slept comforta- 
bly. His pulse was then only eighty in the minute. He went 
to him again at half-past six, and was astonished to find that it 
had risen to one hundred and fifty-six ! and was very feeble, 
fluttering, and irregular : in short, every symptom almost por- 
tended a speedy dissolution, and all the family were collected 
in the room expecting his departure. But a cordial draught 
had the effect of relieving the urgent symptoms ; and, in con- 
sequence of this little revival, we have been favoured, yet ex- 
quisitely wounded, with a number of most touching expres- 
sions of his affectionate regard, and have gained a very interest- 
ing view of the state of his mind. What we can hear him say, 
while sitting by his bed-side, has reminded me of an operation 
said to have been lately performed in France, by which, a 
part of the ribs being removed, it was discovered that the pe- 
ricardium in the living subject is transparent, and the whole 
heart was seen performing all its functions. You will under- 
stand the application of this, from the expression of one of his 
truly affectionate servants : ' Oh, what a comfort it is, that my 
master thinks aloud/ — -His desires after spiritual enjoyments 
appear unbounded ; and he cannot be fully satisfied, because 
he cannot enjoy on earth what belongs only to heaven. 

" He sleeps a good deal this morning : but we see, or think 
we see, the rapid approaches of death ; so that I should not 
wonder, if before the post-hour I should have to announce to 
you, that the Lord has heard his prayers, and given him a re- 
lease from all his troubles and sufferings. Indeed, humanly 
speaking this would have taken place long ere this time, had 
it not been for the exceedingly great and unremitting attention 
of Mr. Dawes, who has watched him by night as well as by 
day, and, in a most skilful manner, apphed every palliative, 
which the nature of the case could admit. I cannot but look on 
it, as a very merciful interposition of Providence, that, at a pe- 
riod of life when my father wanted the active attendance of a 
young person, and all his own children were removed from him, 
such a one was found to supply our place. Dawes, indeed, 
seems to love him as if he were one of his own children : or 
if there be, (as indeed there must be,) the absence of the pecu- 
liar feelings of natural affection, that very circumstance better 



M\) HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP, XVI. 

qualifies him for the kind office which h^ has sustained during 
this trying season ; by enabhng him to apply his judgment to 
the case, with somewhat more coolness, than we could have 
done, even had we possessed equal skill." 

The circumstance noticed in this letter, and on which both 
my brother and the domestic congratulate themselves, was very 
much owing to the deafness of my dear father, which led him 
to express audibly whatever passed in his mind, almost without 
being aware of it. 

The latter part of the letter, I have thought it due to the af- 
fection and the services of a very promising young man to in- 
sert. Mr. W. R. Dawes, who has been already alluded to, as 
first my father's pupil, and subsequently his literary assistant, 
has for some time past regularly devoted himself to the medical 
profession, with every prospect of credit to himself and advan- 
tage to others : and his residence in the house was no doubt a 
great comfort and assistance both to the venerable sufferer, 
and his mourning family, during the scenes which these letters 
describe. 

This evening my father's nephew, the Rev. T. Webster, 
arrived, to take a last farewell of his uncle. 

The account sent me the next day was very gratifying, but I 
was not in Hull to receive it. Havmg been released by a 
change of circumstances at home, 1 that day set out for Aston, 
where I arrived the next evening. Still, however, communi- 
cations were continued to the absent members of the family, 
and to some friends, which will furnish me with farther extracts. 
My sister's letter of this day, (Wednesday, March 28,) con- 
tained the following sentences : — 

*' Our beloved father is still with us ; and, did not his pulse 
indicate approaching dissolution, we should scarcely think it 
possible that a dying man could .speak and think with the ener- 
gy and clearness he does. O that you were here ! How would 
' it rejoice your heart to witness his calm and heavenly spirit : 
his humility, faith, tenderness, and love. He seems the most 
like his Saviour of any mortal I ever beheld : yet, still longing 
for more holiness. Never, indeed, will he be satisfied till he 
enters the realms of eternal bliss. — The agitation of mind, 
under which he did labour, we trust, is finally dispersed. He 
sometimes expresses a fear of the last struggle : yet, in general, 
speaks of it with composure and confidence. — I cannot tell you 
how our dread of separation from him is increased, since he 
has shown such tender affection, and has become so ready to 

talk to us all But I trust God will support us, and that 

we shall all derive great and lasting benefit from the scene pass- 
ing before us." 



I 



1821.] AND DEATH. 321 

Friday, March 30, 1 thus made my report of the state in 
which I found things. 

''- It was not till some hours after my arrival that I could con- 
veniently see my dear father, as he was, and had been through 
the day, in a slumbering state ; and, as an accession of fever 
was then coming on, it was desirable that he should be kept 
quiet. He had expressed a fear, that, if I came, it would add 
to his troubles, by producing anxiety for you; and, when I saw 
him, he asked, with whom I had left you in charge. 

'^ His illness has been quite extraordinary for one of his age, 
and so much reduced : the fever has been so violent — his co» 
lour, at times, almost resembling mahogany — and his pulse 
from one hundred and fifty to one hundred and seventy. — Dr. 
Slater has said, since Tuesday in last week, that he could do 
nothing for his restoration. He says himself, that the powers 
of animal life feel undiminished, and he rather dreads lying 
long in this state. — Being under the influence of fever last 
night, he had lost sight of the joyful feelings, and exulting ex- 
pressions of which you have been informed, and was but gloomy. 
He had a tolerably quiet night, and was this morning more free 
from fever, but looked very death-hke. His language was 
more cheerful, and his prayers of an elevated kind ; as *• that he 
might be one of those in whom Christ should come to be glori- 
fied in that day^ S^c, — He rather triumphed in the birth of our 
little girl, and implored blessings on ^ his twenty-one grand- 
children.' He speaks from time to time, more impressively 
and with more animation to his grandson Thomas, than to 
almost any one else. But he says less than he has done, 
and is more disposed to slumber Poor Betty Moul- 
der looks confidently past all present sufferings, and past the 
remainder of her own prospects in this life, to the event of 
rejoining him in glory. She very simply and fervently said to 
him the other day, ' O, Sir, when 1 get to heaven, and have 
seen Jesus Christ, the very next person I shall ask for will be 
you !' " 

I continue my extracts, and shall have need to make very 
little addition to them. 

April 1st. Sunday. "The day before yesterday my father 
seemed very weak and sinking, and we thought he would not 
live through the night : but yesterday he v/as stronger, and to- 
day is better, 1 think, than on Friday. Upon the whole, he has 
been more cheerful." 

April 3d, Tuesday. " Several fresh and unfavourable symp- 
toms have appeared — a degree of diarrhoea, which cannot be 
checked, and some spots upon the feet which threaten mortifi- 
cation. He is, indeed, a pitiable object of weakness and suf- 



322 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

feringf : but his mind is, in most respects, vigorous, and his me- 
mory quick and correct. Paroxysms of fever have not lately 
come on as they did, and his mmd has in consequence been 
more calm and peaceful : but his pulse has maintained the ex- 
traordinary height f before mentioned — one hundred and seven- 
ty. It is most edifying to observe his solemn earnestness, pro* 
found humility, cleaving to Christ alone, and fervent love and 
kindness to all about him. His attention to the feelings of eve- 
ry body is surprising and beautiful. His extreme deafness is I 
a sad obstruction, and causes him to be left almost to his own I 
resources. We can attempt little by address to him : but he I 
most kindly receives any hint which one suggests by shouting | 
in his ear. He has dreaded living long under increasing suffer- i 
ing, lest this should lead him to impatience. The other night, 
when he asked, under these apprehensions, •• When will this 
end V I replied, laying my head down by his, '' In God's good 
time.' ' Ah,' he said, ^ that is a good expression — God's good 
time : I thank you for it :' and he has dwelt upon it ever since, and 
mentioned it almost every time I have seen him." 

To the Rev. D. Wilson, April 5ih, Thursday. '' My very 
dear friend, I have now been here a week, watching over the 
dying bed of my dear honoured father, and daily expecting his 
dissolution. It is a deeply affecting and edifying scene ; and 
what passed before I could come, was, I suppose, more interest- 
ing still. In every thing • ut comfort, his state may be said to 
be even sublimely Christian. Such an awful sense of eternal 
things, of the evil of sin, and of the holiness of God — such pro- 
found self-abasement — such cleaving unto Christ alone — such 
patience, resignation, and unlimited submission to the will of 
God — such a constant spirit of fervent prayer — such pouring 
forth of blessings on all around him — with such minute and ten- 
der attention to all their feehngs — it is truly admirable to be- 
hold. His state is bright in every one's view but his own.^ 
To his own apprehension, he in great measure walks in dark-l 
ness. I have myself scarcely witnessed a gleam o^ joy. His] 
habitual temper is rather that which the words of Job describe,. 
Though he slay Twe, yet will I trust in him, — This is often pain- 
ful, sometimes it is discouraging to our feelings ; yet, we are 
sensible that there is a call upon us for unbounded gratitude and 
praise. 

" Indeed, it cannot be wondered at, that my dear father 
should have much to contend with, considering how his mind 
has been absolutely worn down by labour, without intermission 
or recreation — the extraordinary fact of his pulse having been 
now for ten days at one hundred and seventy — and his deaf- 



1821.] AND DEATH. 323 

ness, which almost entirely shuts him up, and leaves him to his 
own resources. We cannot pray with him, to make him hear. 
Thrice, indeed, he has received the sacrament, with edifying 
and most affecting solemnity ; and then, from his knowledge 
of the words, aided by pamful vociferation on the part of the 
persons officiating, he could follow the service. One of these 
occasions was succeeded with blessed relief and comfort to his 
mind : but, as he says, the clouds return after the rain, — I am 
very shy of addressing one, to whom I so much look up : but 
occasionally, the attempt to convey to his ear some sentence of 
God's word has succeeded : and it is so kindly and thankfully 
received as is very affecting. But we are obliged to keep, on 
these occasions, almost entirely to first principles — such as the 

coming of the sinner to the Saviour A great part of his 

time he has prayed and thought aloud, as insensible of the pre- 
sence of any fellow-creature ; and the train of his thoughts, thus 
discovered, has been striking, and often highly elevated. 
Thus : ' Posthumous reputation ! the veriest bubble with which 
the devil ever deluded a wretched mortal. But posthumous 
usefulness^ — in that there is indeed something. That was 
what Moses desired, and Joshua, and David, and the prophets ; 
the apostles also, Peter, and Paul, and John ; and most of all 
the Lord Jesus Christ.' — Again : ' O Lord, abhor me not — 
though I be indeed ahhorrihle^ and abhor myself! Say not, 
Thou filthy soul, continue ^Z^% still: but rather say, I will ^ be 
thou clean. ^ " 

April 9th, Monday. '^ The only fresh symptom is great 
drowsiness which is thought some indication of effusion on the 
brain ; the effect of which might be expected to be stupor and 
insensibility : and his continuance would then, probably, not be 
long. He greatlv needs the pity and prayers of you all, and 
earnestly asks them." 

April 11th, Wednesday. '' My dear father still continues, 
and, I hope, suffers less, though he grows much weaker. 
Thank God, his gloom seems very much to have dispersed. 
' I have not,' he lately said, ^ that fear of death which I had.' 
(Qu. of the act of dying ?) And yesterday : 'I find myself much 
more able to approach unto God than I was : but such a sense 
of unworthiness and defilement, as I cannot express.' — On part- 
ing with us last night, he said, ' God knows how well I love 
you all : but I have no wish to see any of you again in this 
world. Do not think this cruel." 

My brothers had been obliged to return to their respective 
homes on Tuesday, and did not reach Aston again tiM after his 
death. 



324 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

To the Rev. Dr. Ryland, Bristol, Friday, April 13.—" I am 
happy to say, as his weakness increases, I hope his positive 
suffering is habitually less ; and his mind appears generally 
calm and cheerful. He says very little : but what he does drop 
is of a gratifying kind. — On the whole, his closing scene, not- 
withstanding these passing clouds, is evidently worthy of his 
Christian character and hopes ; and we have great cause to 
bless God without ceasing, on his behalf. Certainly we ought 
also to be much edified and excited by what we witness. — At 
times he expresses considerable apprehension of the pang of 
death itself. 1 hope, in this his fears may prove groundless. , 
I am sure your prayers for him will not be wanting while he | 
continues ; and when any change takes place we will not fail to I 
inform you." 

At seven o'clock in the evening of Monday, April 16, 1 wrote 
to my daughter, at Hull, as follows : 

" Half an hour ago, your dear blessed grandpapa, ceased to 
breathe. It was hterally, this and no more. Thus has he 
eventually been spared even the least object of his fear. His 
mind has been peaceful and happy of late. Oh how peaceful 
does he now look ! Not a groan, not a sigh escaped him at 
the end. We are as composed as could be expected. — But I 
can hardly save the post. — May our last end be like his !" 

The next day I wrote home a more particular account of the 
closing scene, than either the time or the circumstances would 
allow that evening. 

April 17th, Tuesday. " For two days my dear father 
coughed almost incessantly, though not violently ; which was 
accompanied with frequent expectoration. But on Saturday, 
this almost entirely ceased. In consequence, an increased dif- 
ficulty of breathing succeeded, and we feared suffocation might 
take place. On Sunday night he was very ill, so as to make 
us apprehend his death was at hand. On Monday morning 
he was, for a time, a good deal better : but the oppression re- 
turned and increased. Nothing immediate was anticipated, 
when his death actually approached. I had taken a walk, and 
on my return visited his chamber. We then all came down 
to tea ; in the course of which, it was remarked, that it did not 
seem quite well for him to be left attended only by a servant, 
as her grief appeared to distress him. I said, I would go up 
immediately. I did so : but Dawes had anticipated me. He 
had found my father worse, dismissed the servant, and was 
supporting him nearly in an erect posture, upon his arm. I 
said, 'This cannot surely last long:' and D. replied, 'Not 
through the night, I think.' I looked in his face, and saw his 



I 



1821.] AND DEATH. 325 

eyes in some degree turn upwards, which I pointed out to D. 
(who was rather behind him,) and he immediately said, ' You 
nad better tell those who wish to see him again to come.' I 
did so in a calm manner, and went before them. He was sink- 
ing as quietly as an infant dropping asleep, and with a beautiful 
look of composure. My mother and sister wished to come in, 
and, on my saying there was nothing to shock them, they did 
so. We all looked on for a minute or two, while the last respi- 
rations quietly ebbed away — so to speak. So far from feeling 
shocked, it was a rehef to all our minds to see such labour, as 
his breathing had been, subside into such sweet peace and ease. 
— He had been peaceful and happy, on the whole, for several 
days, and on Sunday, and on the morning of Monday, had said 
some delightful things. — His mind was clear to the last mo- 
ment ; and, I believe, in the article of death itself, he suffered 
much less than for many hours, or even days before. — The 
last effort which he made, was to stretch out his hand to his 
servant, when she was about to leave the room. A very little 
time before he had affectionately shaken hands with me. — He 
had been shaved only two hours and a half before his death, 
and at that time he opened his shirt neck, and put all out of the 
way for the operation. 

" All that he has taught and done is now sealed by his dying 
testimony, and his dying example. No blot can now come upon 
it from him : which was so long and so much the object of his 
prayers. Blessed be God. — More heavenly dispositions, surely, 
could not be exhibited than prevailed in him throughout his 
illness — even when he walked in darkness. — Not one of all his 
fears has been realized : indeed, they all vanished away one by 
one. The last which he expressed, was, on Friday, of the 
agony of death : but where was the agony to him ? Peace, 
peace, perfect peace ! All our hopes have been exceeded. 
The close has been a cordial to us all : and how substantial the 
comfort ! The constant prevalence of such tempers, under 
the most trying of circumstances, — how much superior an 
evidence is this, to any degree of confidence unsupported by 
even a like measure of meetness for the inheritance (^ the saints 
in light! .... He was pouring out his blessings and prayers 
for the dear children to a very iate period ; particularly on 
Saturday night, (though so i?er2/ill,) when reminded that it was 
Jane's birth day." 

The following is the account of the same event furnished to 
Mr. Wilson by the faithful and affectionate young friend in 
whose arms my father expired : — 

'^ One of his last efforts was to give his hand to his weeping 

28 



326 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI, 

servant ; which, was a beautiful evidence that the tender atten- 
tion to the feehngs of those around him, which marked his 
whole illness, continued to form a prominent feature in his 
state of mind even to the last. After this, which took place 
about five minutes before his death, he appeared to be lost m 
prayer ; but just at the moment when he recHned his head on 
my breast, the expression of his countenance suddenly changed 
from that of prayer, and indicated, as I conceived, a transition 
to feehngs of admiring and adoring praise, with a calmness and 
peace which are quite inexpressible. The idea strongly im- 
pressed upon my mind was, that the veil which intercepts J 
eternal things from our view was removed, and that, like Ste- | 
phen, he saw things invisible to mortal eye." i 

Since these pages were prepared for press, another account I 
of the closing scene, drawn up by my sister, only as a private ^ 
memorandum, has come into my hands, and I feel unwilling to 
withhold it. 

'''' On the evening of Sunday his breath became dreadfully 
oppressed, and we stood by in great alarm and distress, wit- 
nessing his agonies. He was delightfully calm and tenderly 
affectionate : desired us to go to supper, as we needed refresh- 
ment, and gave us his parting blessing. He said to me, ' Give 
my dying blessing to your husband, and his father and mother.' 

" He, however, revived again, and on Monday seemed rather 
better ; though his inability to throw off the phlegm, which 
accumulated in great quantities, convinced us that his end was 
approaching. 

^' On Mr. D.'s feeling his pulse, he inquired, ' Any change ? 
Any token for good ?' Mr. D. answered, ^ I think you are not 
so ill as you were in the morning.' ' Very well,' was his reply : 
' Thy will, O Lord, be done !' 

" About the middle of the day, fever again came on, and he ! 
appeared restless and distressed. He said ^ Some hours this . 
morning passed very comfortably. It was something like god- j 
liness : but now my mind is confused, and I cannot fix my * 
thoughts.' — His breath in the afternoon became short, and his 
sufferings appeared great : but on my mother's lamenting his 
distress in breathing, he said, ' It is by no means so great as last 
night.' — He had frequently said in the preceding week, when 
we thought him dying, laying his hand on his chest, ^ Nothing 
fails here: I may live weeks as I now am.' But for the last 
day or two he had perceived a difference in this respect, and 
often noticed it, saying, ' Here it is — the oppression is dread- 
ful ! Lord support me ! Receive my spirit 1' — About four or 
five o'clock, the flush left his face, and he became calirii 



1821. J ' ^ AND DEATH. 327 

and again able to resume his constant work of prayer and 
praise. He, however, spoke little to be understood, but his 
hands and eyes were continually lifted up to heaven. He oc- 
casionally looked round upon us with unutterable tenderness 
and affection, though sometimes with a mixture of reproach 
when he witnessed our tears. His countenance expressed what 
he had said to my mother a day or two before : '- Can any ra- 
tional being grieve at my departure ? If you thought I was go- 
ing to be miserable, you might mourn ; but surely not as it is.' 
On her reply, that she could not help it, he said, ^ Nature will 
have its first burst of sorrow : but you will soon learn to view 
the subject in its true light.' 

*•'• He seemed, about half-past six, almost disquieted by seeing 
the bitter distress of a servant who sat by him, and repeatedly 
shook his head as a sign that she should moderate her grief. 
As her feelings became ungovernable, she rose to leave the 
room : which when he perceived, he made an attempt to take 
his hand out of bed, to give her before she went : but his weak- 
ness prevented his succeeding. It was his last effort. He 
soon after made a sign to Mr. D. to raise his head. Mr. D. 
took him in his arms ; he laid his head on his shoulder, and 
raised his eyes to heaven ; a look of unutterable joy, an ex- 
pression of glory begun, came over his whole countenance, and 
in a few minutes, without sigh or struggle, without even a dis- 
composed feature, he sweetly slept in Jesus. We all, even 
my poor mother, stood by and were comforted. We could 
hardly conceive it could be death ; and when assured by Mr. 
D., who still held him in his arms, that the heart had ceased to 
beat, our first words were praise and thanksgiving to that God, 
who had dehvered him from every fear, from all evil, and re- 
ceived him to his eternal kingdom and glory. — We soon, indeed 
awoke to the sense of our own irreparable loss. To the end 
of life we must mourn such a wise counsellor, bright example^ 
and fervent intercessor. Yet never can we think of him with- 
out blessing and praising God on his behalf, for all he did^br 
him and % him ; for having so long preserved to us such a trea- 
sure, — even till, we humbly trust, we through grace have a 
blessed hope of all being at length re-united with him in the 
realms of endless bliss ! 

*" It is not easy to descri))e the deep grief of his people, when 
the mournful event was made known in the village and neigh- 
bourhood. ^ Our friend is gone !' '- We have lost our friend /' 
were the lamentations of th^ poor on every side. Even the 
most stupid and thoughtless of his parishioners were roused to 
feeling on this occasion. Numbers of the parish and neighbour- 
hood came to take a last look, and stood by the corpse over- 



OZB HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

whelmed with grief, — many of whom had paid little attention 
to his instructions while living." 

Mr. Wilson remarks : — " Upon such a departure, no feeling 
but that of gratitude and joy can arise in the Christian's breast, 
unless perhaps a momentary regret should cross the mind for 
the extremity of suffering which our friend was called to en- 
dure. But,that will soon subside into submission, when we re- 
collect the calmness with which the blessed apostle in our text 
speaks of his own still more violent death. For the Christian - 
will behold in both, not so much the external circumstances or 1 1 
the personal anguish, as the principle on which they were sup- 
ported, and the acceptance with which they were crowned. 
Yes, my brethren, the dissolution of our venerable friend, 
though not, like the inspired apostle's, a martyrdom for the 
cause of Christ, in which he poured out his blood as a liba- 
tion ; yet, so far as intense sufferings from the ordinary attacks 
of disease, and the superadded assaults of Satan, gave him the 
occasion of testifying his faith and patience, of confirming his 
fidelity to Christ, of displaying for the instruction and encou- 
ragement of the surviving church, a most affecting scene, of a 
dying disciple adhering to his Saviour under the bitterest temp- 
tations and most oppressive conflicts, and then fallmg asleep 
with peace and resignation ; his death was a sacred act, the 
consummation of his devotedness to God. And his composure, 
not only in contemplating his departure when near, but in en- 
during it and supporting it when it arrived, surrounded as it was 
with circumstances calculated to dismay an ordinary faith, 
formed a striking exemplification of the Christian fortitude 
which is so nobly evinced by the blessed apostle in the triumph- 
ant passage we have been considering." 

The funeral took place on the Monday following, April 23. 
It was our intention to act strictly according to his own direc- 
tions, by making it as plain and private as possible. But, as 
the hour approached, numbers of those who had enjoyed his 
acquaintance, with many others who *••• esteemed him highly in 
love for his work's sake," — some of them "coming from a very 
considerable distance, — began to collect around the church and 
the parsonage-house. On the procession leaving the garden- 
gate, it was attended by sixteen clergymen ; while thirty or I 
forty respectable females, in full rnourning, stood ready, in " 
double line, to join it as it passed towards the church. That 
little building was more crowded, probably, than on any former 
occasion ; and a large number of persons collected round the 
windows, unable to enter for want of room. In the absence 
of the Rev. J. H. Barber, (the present rector,) who had been 
disappointed of arriving in time, the funeral service was read 



S5 



AND DEATH. ^^^ 



1821.] 

bv the Rev. S. B. Matthews, curate of Stone. The Rev. John 
Hill, vice-principal of St. Edmund's Hall, Oxford, addressed 
the congregation, previously to the interment, from the words 
of dying Jacob, ^^I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord i 
and the'^very appropriate hymn was sung, beginning, 

" In vain my fancy strives to paint 
The moment after death," &c. 

Mr. Wilson's funeral sermon was preached on the Friday fol- 
lowinff. It was our intention, and very much our wish, that it 
should have been delivered from the same pulpit, whence the 
venerated servant of Christ, who gave occasion to it, had tor 
eighteen vears, '' declared the whole counsel ot God : but it 
was foreseen that the little church at Aston would be utterly 
inadequate to receive the numbers who would desire to be pre- 
sent The neighbouring church of Haddenham, therefore, 
which had been kindly offered, was thankfully, though, at the 
same time, somewhat reluctantly accepted for the service. 1 he 
event showed the necessity of making the exchange, for even 
that large building was not sufficient to accoiumodate the 
crowds who assembled. The appearance of the congregation, 
in which a large proportion of all ranks had provided themselves 
with mourning, evinced how highly my dear father was esteem- 
ed in the neighbourhood, though his infirmities and engage- 
ments had conspired for a long time past to confine him withm 
the limits of his own village. 

Before I proceed to other documents, I will lay before the 
reader a few short extracts of letters from different members of 
the family, showing the view which they took of the whole 
scene, in proportion as they were enabled to look back upon it 
more deliberatelv, and with greater composure. 

April 20. " We feel that we have had a grand and most 
edifying Christian spectacle proposed to us : far more striking 
and instructive than if all had been smooth." 

April 25. " It was a great fear of my dear father's, that 
his death-bed scene should depress any of us, particularly my- 
self How much otherwise has been the effect 1 I do confess 
that the contemplation of the whole, in all its connexions, pro- 
duces such an effect, that I cannot feel depressed at present.' — 
(The letter in reply to which this was' written, brought some 
painful intelhgence.)— '^ After seeing fears so disappointed, (if 
I may use the expression,) and prayers so answered, I cannot 
but indulge hope." t j x 

May 29. '' When I dare to recall past scenes, 1 hope 1 do it 
with much praise and thankfulness, mingled with my sorrow : 

28* 



830 HIS LAST ILLNESS [cHAP. XVI, 

and I really do think that even the most painful part of your 
beloved father's experience affords matter rather of gratitude 
than of grief. As I observed before, it reminded me of a fine 
sun-set, heightened by the dark and gloomy clouds tinted with 
gold ; and I certainly think the scene afforded more to warn, 
excite, and interest us, than a more serene and unclouded one 
would have done. — Some of our best feelings were, I trust, 
drawn out on this most melancholy and affecting occasion, and 
our hearts still more than before united in tender affection." 

June 2. " I remain in a very debilitated state. . . . My 
mind too, after all its over excitennent at Aston, has sunk al- 
most into what the doctors call a Collapsed state ; and it seems 
sometimes as torpid as its companion. I do not, however, 
mean by this to say, that the effects of what I have so lately 
witnessed and experienced have entirely subsided. I would 
not thus undervalue the goodness of God : who, by means of 
the bereavement we have lately sustained, and all its attendant 
circumstances, has done me,] would fain hope, permanent good. 
— I often look back with joy and gratitude to our dehghtfu! 
meeting, — for delightful certainly it was, though mingled with 
such exquisite pain. Surely it was a foretaste of that time, 
when I humbly trust, we shall all be re-united in the realms of 
eternal bliss ! — You ask for my now calmer reflections : but I 
canncyt yet think calmly on what has passed. My heart over- 
flows with a strange mixture of feelings, whenever my thoughts 
.urn that way. Those of a joyful nature, however, predomi- 
nate. The amazing goodness of God to me and mine — our 
past happiness — our future prospects — at times quite overpow- 
er my mind, and I seem almost lost in ^ wonder, love, and praise.' 
— But I am afraid of yielding to these happy emotions, lest they 
should not rest on a secure foundation, as regards myself: and 
yet, perhaps, a merciful God bestows them, as a cordial to sup- 
port me under my depressing maladies ; and ought I to turn 
away from the cup of consolation which he so graciously puts 
into my hand, unvv^orthy as I am of the least of his mercies ? — 
Many things which passed have led me to a more constant and 
careful perusal of the Bible than formerly : and most richly 
have I been rewarded by such views of the wondrous things of 
God'slaw^ as I never before enjoyed." 

August 2. '^ Whenever I contemplate his close, I seem to 
derive from it a deeper conviction of the importance and ex- 
cellence of religion, and of the vast hold it had upon his 
mind." 

I shall only now detain the reader from the memorandums 
which were made of what fell from my father's lips during his 
illness, while I submit some extracts and remarks on that de- 



i82I.J AND DEATH. 33 1 

gree of darkness and depression, which was intermingled with 
sensations of a different kind in his experience at this time 

In a letter, dated February 21, before the commencement of 
my father's illness, the Rev. W. Richardson, of York, had re- 
marked generally, referring to him, " Deep thinkers, and high- 
ly gifted persons, are seldom favoured with such joy and peace 
in believing as are experienced by common minds. Men must 
alvyays pay the penalty annexed to pre-eminence above their 
fellows. 

The following were the reflections made upon the subject of 
his conflicts of this kind, in the obituary published in the Chris- 
tian Observer, soon after his decease : 

" Under all the circumstances of such a case, to have ex- 
■ Pected that Mr. Scott's mind should be kept uniformly cheerful 
and hlled with bright anticipations, would not only have been 
j to expect little less than a miracle, but would have shown a de- 
. lective acquaintance with the operations of the human mind 
' and with God's dealings with his most established and matured' 
•servants. The sagacious and observant Bunyan took a differ- 
, ent view of the subject ; and accordingly he represents his more 
experienced Christian as encountering, on his first entrance 
into ' the river,' and in some parts of his passage, a degree of 
darkness and apprehension, from which the younger disciple. 
Hopeful, IS mercifully exempted. Is not this natural, and sup- 
ported by facts ?* The deeper views which such characters 
have taken of sin ; the profounder sense they have of their own 
unworthiness ; their more awful impressions of eternity • the 
apprehensions with which long experience has inspired them 
iwith the deceitfulness of the human heart ; and the ideas which 
,both Scripture and fact have taught them to form of the power 
and malice of evil spirits ; all conspire to this end. Moreover 
it IS a common observation, that where, (as in the case of Abra! 
ham,) Almighty God has communicated strong faith, he sub 
lects It to severe trials. If any can conceive of nothing supe- 
,Hor to present comfort to them this may be puzzling; but it 
heed not be so to others. The result, in such cases, proves 
lonourable to God and edifying to his saints. What tried and 
tempted sp.nt for example, has not been animated in his con 
:' 7 *^,? ^^^'''^■nation wrung from holy Job, Though he slay 
lie, yet will I trust in him! * ^ 

\ " Though, however, Mr. Scott passed through deep waters 
|ind sometimes walked in darkness, (Isa. 1. 10,) during his 'ast 
Illness, it IS not to be supposed that this was his constant, or 



332 HIS LAST ILLNESS [cHAP. XVI* 

even his habitual situation ; much less that fear of the final 
event prevailed in him. No : hope as to that point generally 
predominated, though he would say, ' Even one fear, where 
infinity is at stake, is sufficient to countervail all its consoling 
effects.' But the present conflict was severe ; and his holy 
soul could conceive of many evils, short of the failure of final 
salvation, from which he shrunk back with horror. There 
can be no doubt, that these distressing feelings were much con- 
nected with the disease under which he laboured, as they in- 
creased and abated again with the paroxysms of his fever : yet 
with the Scriptures in our hands, we cannot hesitate to concur 
in his judgment that the malignant powers of darkness took 
advantage of this, in a peculiar manner, to harass and distress 
him. From time to time, however, the clouds dispersed, and 
the ' Sun of Righteousness arose upon him with healing in his 
beams. "^ " 

In the third edition of his funeral sermons, Mr. Wilson has 
added the following note upon the subject of my father's suf 
ferings, both mental and bodily : 

'^ The remarkable sufferings of so eminent a saint, in his last 
sickness, may, perhaps, at first perplex the mind of a young 
Christian. But such a person should remember, that the way 
to heaven is ordinarily a way of tribulation ; and that the great 
est honour God puts on his servants is, to call them to sue! 
circumstances of affliction as display and manifest his grace. 
What would have crushed a weak and unstable penitent, witi 
irfimature knowledge of the promises of salvation, only illustra^ 
ted the faith of the venerable subject of these discourses. Goc 
adapts the burden to the strength.— As to the anguish and dark 
ness, which at times rested on his mind, they were clearly thr 
combined eflects of diease, and of the temptations of the ad- 
versary. The return of comfort, as his fever remitted, made 
this quite certain ; and he was himself able, at times, to mak; 
the distinction. But even in the midst of his afflictive feehnge^ 
it is manifest to every real judge of such a case, that a livin- 
and strong faith was in vigorous activity. Almost every ex 
pression detailed by me, is an expression of this principle. For 
consolation is one thing, faith another. This latter grace often 
lays hold of the promises made in Christ with the firmest grasp- 
at the very time when hope and comfort are interrupted by tl]>^ 
morbid state of the bodily and mental powers. Our feelini^^s 
and frames, thank God, are not the foundation on which we 
build. Never, perhaps, was stronger faith exhibited, even by 
our Saviour himself, than when he uttered those piercing word.^. 
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ? 

'' But it may be farther remarked, that very important encir 



I 1821.J AND DEATH. 53J 

I were doubtless to be answered by these sufferings, not only to 
' the^i^hurch generally, as I have already observed, but to the 
venerable sufferer himself. Possibly his extraordinary talents, 
his extensive success, his long and familiar acquaintance with 
all the topics of theology, his surprising influence over a wide 
circle of readers, may have required this last struggle to check 
every remaining tendency to self-elevation, and make him feel 
more deeply than ever, what he confessed through life in so 
unfeigned a manner, that he was in himself nothing but a most 
guilty and unworthy sinner. 

'^ if, however, any difficulty remains, it is more than sufficient 

to say, that it is our duty to resolve such cases into the unerring 

wisdom and good pleasure of God. We know nothing. Our 

concern, both as to ourselves and others, is to be dumb, and not 

open our mouths^ at what God does. Happy, infinitely happy, 

, is It for us to know, that all things work together for good to 

\\ them that love God^ and that no temptation idUI take us but ivhat 

;| is common to man ; but that God is faithful^ who vnll not suffer 

!' us to be tempted above that i^e are able ; but will with the 

i temptations also make a way to escape^ that we may be able to 

hear it. 

"Of the glory which follows, and swallows up all these tem- 
porary sufferings, T need not speak." 

In reviewing Mr. W.'s sermons, the Christian Observer re- 
marks on the specimens which Mr, W. supplied of my father's 
dying expressions. 

" They convey to our minds the most unequivocal testimony 
of a frame of mind the best suited to his circumstances, the 
most acceptable to God, and the most cheering to those deeply 
interested in his eternal welfare. It is perfectly true, that in- 
dications of deep thought — of occasional perturbation — of an 
j anxious searching, and launching forward, as it were, into the 
depths and obscurities of futurity — and of the heavy pressure 
I of sin on the conscience, discover themselves in his dymg de- 
clarations. It is perfectly true, also, that some clouds occasion- 
I ally interposed, and veiled to his sinking eye, for the moment, 
\ the glories of the invisible world. It is true, that his dying 
scene presents to us an individual walking rather in the twilight 
I of enjoyment, where the sun and the shade were struggling to- 
j gether for victory, than in a region of unmixed happiness. But 
are not such thoughts and anxieties the natural accompani- 
. ments of every step of our pilgrimage ; and, if finally dispersed 
i by the light of faith, and hope, and Christian joy, does not 
] their presence supply even a stronger evidence, to the bystand- 
' er, of the safety of the individual, than their absence ? Undis- 



334 HIS LAST ILIAESS [CHAP. XVI. 

turbed serenity may be undisturbed delusion. A calm after 
anxiety, is a victory after the battle — is the ^ palm,' whe»the 
battle is won. And such was the case of Mr. Scott." 

Finally, I would not for myself avow, more strongly, if possi- 
ble, than before, though without any design to retract or weak- 
en the influence of what has been said on satanic agency, a firm 
conviction that the gioouu of which we speak, was, in the pre- 
sent instance, mainly to be attributed to the force of disease ; 
which has the power of producing such effects, and effects also 
of an opposite description, beyond what those who have not 
carefully considered the subject are at all aware. The follow- 
ing sentence is no doubt strictly true in both its parts : " Good 
men may be unreasonably -iepressed and dejected, and bad men 
supported and elevated, under the near prospect of death, from 
the mere operation of natural causes."* — At the same time, the 
reader has been called to observe, and in what is to follow he 
will still farther perceive, how large an intermixture there was 
of joyful, as well as of dejected sentiments, in the case before 
us. 

I now insert the 

EMORANDUMS 

MADE DrnrNG Ml father's illness. 

My sister says in her letter of March 24, (above, page 318,) 
** The first days I was here I could do nothing but weep and 
pray." Subsequently she says, *■'' At length, however, I was 
roused to the edifying nature of the scene, and to consider how 
beneficial the recollection of it might hereafter be to myself and 
others. This induced me to make some notes of what passed." 
— These are as follows : 

" In the time of his darkness and gloom, he prayed without 
ceasing, and with inexpressible fervour. He seemed uncon- 
scious of any one being near him, and gave vent to the feelings 
of his mind without restraint. And, oh ! what holy feehngs 
were they ; what spirituality, what hatred of sin, what humility, 
what simple faith in Christ, what zeal for God's glory, what 
submission ! Never could I hear him without being reminded 
of Him, who, being in an agony, prayed the more earnestly : and 
whose language wa-^ 3/// God, my Gods ichy hast thou forsaken 
me ? yererthcl^ss. Thou continuest holy ! *• I think nothing,* 
he said, ' of my bodily pains : my soul is all. . I trust all 
will end well*; but it is a dreadful conflict. I hope — I fear 

* Pearson's Life of He v. 



1821.] A^^D DEATH. 333 

' — I tremble — I pray. Satan tries to be revenged on me, in 
^ this awful hour, for all that T have done against his kingdom 

through hfe. He longs to pluck me out of Christ's hand. 

Subdue the eneiny, O Lord ! Silence the accuser ! Bruise 

Satan under my feet shortly i 

Hide me, my Saviour, hide, 
• Till the storm of life is past, 
Safe iiito the haven guide, 

receive my soul at last ! 
Other refuge I have none !' 

— ' Oh, to enter eternity with one doubt on the mind ! Eternity 
I! Eternity — Eternity T — ^ People talk of assurance not being at- 
i tainable in this world, nor perhaps much to be desired. They 
\ and the devil acrree on this point.' — ^ O what a thing sin is ! — 
\ Who hnoweth the power of his wrath ? Tf this be the way to 
i heaven, what uiust the way to hell be ? If the righteous scarce- 
ly he saved^ where shall theiingodly and the sinner appear?^ 

'^ He mentioned the wonderful way in which his prayers fo? 
others had been answered ; and seemed to derive some com- 
fort from the reflection. He thought he had failed less in the 
doty of intercession than in any other !* 

" He rejected every attempt to comfort him by reminding 
him of the way in which he had served and glorified God. 
'Christ is all,' he said : ^ he is my only hope. Hide me, O 
my Saviour, &:c. I Other refuge have I none^" 6z.c, 

" In the midst of his conflict he generally expressed hope of 

!' final victory, but thought he should die under a cloud. He ac- 
cused himself of self-indulgence and slackness in prayer; of 
;| having made his religious labours an excuse for shortness in 
private devotion. 

^' There was an astonishing absence of selfish feeling. Even 
in his worst hours he thought of the health of us all : observed 
if we sat up long, and insisted upon our retiring ; and was much 
afraid of paining or hurting us in any way. 

'^ His wonderful knowledge of Scripture was a source of great 
comfort, and the exactness with which he repeated passage af- 
ter passage, frequently remarking upon emphatic words in the 
original, was amazing. The manner, also, in which he con- 
■ected one with another was admirable. It resembled hearing 
I a series of exquisitely selected Scripture-references read with 



I 



* Perhaps when all circumstances are fully considered, there is not a sen- 
tence in these papers more remarkable than this : nor a fact in liis history more 
indicative of his zeal for God and love to man, than that to which it relates. 
Who among us can make a similar declaration ? 



i 



336 HIS LAST ILLNESS [OHAP. XVI» 

a solemnity and feeling such as one had never before witness* 
ed. I 

" His first clear consolation was after receiving the Lord'sr 
supper, on Thursday, March 22d. ^ He had previously observ- 
ed : ' An undue stress is by some laid upon this ordinance, as 
administered to the sick, and I think others of us are in dangeFj 
of undervaluing it. It is a means of grace^ and may proved 
God's instrument of conveying to me the comibrt I am seeking.*! 
The scene was indescribable, and can never be forgotten by 
any who witnessed it. His fervour, his humility, the way iu 
wliich he raised his emaciated hands to heaven, his pallid dying, 
countenance, so full of love, and expressive of every thin^ 
heavenly and holy, the tears and sobs of those present : all to^ 
gether, were most overpowering. Surely God was with us inS 
a peculiar manner. Shortly after the service was concluded^f 
he said, '- Now^ Lord^ lettest thou thy servant depart in peace^for 
mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' Through the remainder of 
the day, though much exhausted, and during the night, he con- 
tinued in a very happy state of mind. 

" To his son-in-law, who came in the evening, and regretted 
his absence when the sacrament was administered, he said 
^ It was beneficial to me : I received Christ and he received 
me. I feel a composure which I did not expect last night : I 
have not triumphant assurance, but something which is more 
calm and satisfactory. I bless God for it.' And then he re- 
peated in the most emphatic manner, the whole of the twelfth 
chapter of Isaiah : '• O Lord, I will praise thee ; though thou 
wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou com^ 
fortest me,' &.c. O, to realize the fulness of joy ! to have done 
with temptation ! *• They shall hunger no more, neither thirst 
any more : neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat ; 
for the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed 
them, and shall lead them unto hving fountains of waters : and 
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. — They are come 
out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they be- 
fore the throne of God.' 

' Sin, my worst enemy before, 
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more : 
My inward foes shall all be slain. 
Nor Satan break my peace again.' — 

'^ ' We know not what we shall be : but we know, that when 
he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he 
is. — The righteous hath hope in his death — not driven away ; 
no, no, not driven away, as the wicked is.' 



1 82 1. J AND DEATH. """^"'^^ ;iJj 

* When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
Bid my anxious fears subside !' — 

* Though painful at present, 

'Twill cease before long ; 
And then, oh how pleasant 
The conqueror's song !' 

"' '" What a mercy,' he said, on something being prepared 
for him, ^ that there are so many changes of food for bad ap- 
petites ; and so many kind relatives, friends, and domestics, 
doing all they can to help me. — You are all trying to comfort 
me : God bless you, and all whom you desire to be blessed ! 
He will be a God to Abraham, and to his seed, and his seed's 
seed. Let the children of thy servant continue^ and their seed 
ie established before thee /' 

' How would the powers of darkness boast 
If but one praying soul were lost!' 

He frequently repeated, Perfect peace ! 

" In the evening he asked Mr. Dawes if there was not a proof 
sheet that night, extending nearly to the close of St. John. And 
then, evidently going over in his mind the contents of the last 
chapters of that gospel, he said, ^ Well • It is finished : We shall 
soon finish bur work too.' After a pause — ' My Lord,, and my 
Godr and then with great animation, ^ These things are writ- 
ten that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ,, the Son of 
God,, and that,, believing,, ye might have life through his name,' 
— He again paused, and then proceeded : ' Lovest thou me ?"* 
and, turning to his sons, ' It is too late to say to me,, but he 
says to you,, feed my sheep,, feed my lambs. That is the way 
to show your love. I have endeavoured to do it, but it is all 
over now.' Mr. D. said, ^ Your works will furnish food for 
Ihem for a long time to come :' he replied, ^ Aye, but they will 
get out of fashion.' Mr. D. ' The Bible will not get out of 
fashion.' ' But they will get a new-fashioned way of comment- 
ing upon it.' Mr. D. said something farther on the permanen- 
cy of his Comment. ' Pho,' he cried, with a semi-contemptuous 
smile ; and added : ' Oh, you do not know what a proud heart 
I have, and how you help the devil. They may take a fevf hints, 
I hope. I leave something which they may have in remem- 
brance after my decease, but oh !' — with great solemnity — ' what 
an awful responsibility rests upon me! I ha^e done what I 
could. Forgive — accept — bless !' 

" He proceeded : ' There is one feeling I cannot have if I 



29 



333 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

would. Those that oppose my doctrine have slandered me sad- 
ly : but I cannot feel any resentment, I can only love and 
pity them, and pray for their salvation. 1 never did feel any 
resentment against them : I only regret that I did not more ar- 
dently long and pray for the salvation of their souls.' — * I feel 
most earnest in prayer for the promotion of Christ's kingdom 
all over the earth. Hallowed be thy name — Thy kingdcnn 
come — Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven ! — Be thou 
exalted^ Lord^ in thy own strength ; so will we sing and upraise 
thy power, "* — ^ There are two causes in the world, the cause 
of God, and the cause of the devil ; the cause of our Lord Je- 
sus Christ, and the cause of the devil. The cause of God will 
prevail all over the world, among all kindreds,, and people,^ and 
tongues. It shall Jill the whole earth. Hallowed be thy 
name,, 4*^.' 

" ^ 1 hope I leave something,' he said, referring to his wri- 
tings, ' which may do good to the industrious ; and nothing can 
do good to the idle.' 

^^ He afterward alluded with great concern to the death of 
his father. ' I fear he knew not Immanuel,, the Lord our right- 
eousness. His last letter to me was full of Socinian principles. 
I wrote a long and affectionate answer, but he died before it ar- 
rived.' — Then to his grandson ; ' You see your grandfather, I 
trust, die a more Christian death than his father : may you die 
a more Christian death than either grandfather or great-grand- 
father ! To this end lead a more Christian life. You have 
greater advantages than they had. You have been planted in 
the courts of the Lord: but oh !' (raising his emaciated hands 
with amazing energy.) ' despise not the birth-right; lest after- 
ward you find it not,, though you seek it carefully with tears. 
— I have nothing but my blessing and good-will to give you. 
I have no money to leave you ; and, if I had, it would be a 
mere bauble, a bubble, all vanity.' 

'^ In the night, Mr. Dawes, sitting by him, heard him say in 
alow voice : ^ O God, thou art the husband of the widow", the 
father of the fatherless : be thou a husband to my widow, a fa- 
ther to 7ny children, a friend to this young friend who sits so 
kindly by me.' >f 

'^ He had some refreshing sleep, and awoke in great calm- 
ness. ' This,' he said, ' is heaven begun ; I have done with 
darkness for ever— for ever, Satan is vanquished. Nothing 
now remains, but salvation with eternal glory — eternal glory.' 

^^ In the morning, (Friday, March 23,) the flush in his cheek 
announced the return of fever, and with it there was some agi- 
tation and distress : ^ But,' said he, '- though I feel some temp- 



i 



1821.] AND DEATH. 339 

tation, more than I have done through the night, yet, for a dy- 
ing day, it is all mercy. / have waited for thy salvation^ O 
Lord : preserve me yet !' — The paroxysm came on with great 
violence : his sufferings were extreme, and confusion and gloom 
prevailed. He cried earnestly to God. ' All my calm and 
comfortp he said, ' are gone : nothing remains of them but a 
faint recollection, — and that I can pray for you. — Well, after 
all, God is greater than Satan. Is not Christ all-sufficient ? Can 
he not save to the uttermost ? Hath he not promised to save ? 
Lord, deliver me 1 Suffer not Satan to prevail ! Pity, pity. Lord, 
pity me !' 

" The absence of every murmur and complaint, under such 
heavy mental and bodily sufferings, was very striking. He said, 
with reference to dying under this gloom, ^ If it be so, I cannot 
help it : Thou art righteous ! Father^ g^^V *^y name ! 

— If my soul were sent to hell 
Thy righteous law approves it well. 

Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord, 
Whose hope, still hovering round thy word, 
Would light on some sweet promise there, 
Some sure support against despair. 

— Round thy word: not hunting after any new revelation : No, 
no : I want nothing new ; nothing but the old doctrine, and 
faith to lay hold of it. That will bear me through all.' 

" Dr. Slater now came. To him he related with great ac- 
curacy all that had passed, both as to body and mind, since he 
saw him on Tuesday ; and asked his advice respecting taking 
opiates, which he found most efficacious in quieting his over- 
excitement, preventing dehrium, and reducing the mind to its 
natural state, so that he could pray with peace and calmness.— 
' Observe,' he said, ' I do not fear death.' ' No,' replied Dr. S. 
^ I know you desire to depart.' ' In that,' said he, ' The Lord's 
will be done : I want to do my duty : I would not shorten my 
sufferings by the least sin.' 

" In the evening the fever abated, and he became calm. His 
mind dwelt much upon love, ^ God is love ; and he that dwel- 
leth in love^ dwelleth in God^ and God in him. Faith thai work- 
eth by lave.' He seemed full of tenderness and affection to all 
around him. ' One evidence,' he said, ' I have of meetness for 
heaven — I feel such love to all mankind — to every man up- 
on earth — to those who have most opposed and slandered 
me.' 

*^ To the Rev. S. B. Matthews, then curate of Stone, now of 



340 HIS LAST ILLNESS [OHAP. XVI» 

Aston Sandford, and Secretary to a neigbouring Bible Society, 
he said, with great energy : '' Count it an honour, without recom- 
pense or reward, in the midst of frowns and opposition, to 
preach the unsearchable riches of Christ to poor sinners ; to 
help to send his word all over the earth, by sea and land. 
None but Jesus can do us good : nor can we do any good to 
others but by him. — I have suffered more this fortnight than in 
all my seventy-four years : and Christ has appeared to me a 
hundred, yea, a thousand times, if possible more precious and 
glorious than ever ; sin, more hateful and evil ; salvation, more 
to be desired and valued. — Christ is all — the love of Christ — 
the power of Christ. To me to live is Christ: and to die^ I 
hope, will be gain. — More than all in thee, I find. I have 
found more in him, than I ever expected to want,^ 

'^ To his daughter : ^ I used about this time in the evening 
to pray for you all ; but I have no power now : hardly any to 
pray for myself. You must pray for me.' Then, *• Let me 
look to Christ to intercede for me. — I have not quite failed to 
improve the privilege of access to God by Christ — of his inter- 
cession : but I have not availed myself of it as I ought. I hope * 
you will all value and improve this inestimable privilege.' — ^ AH 
depends on faith. Lord, give me faith ! — the precious faith of 
God^s elect ! Pray for me, that I may have faith — hope — love— 

Till faith is sweetly lost in sight, 
And hope in full supreme delight. 
And everlasting lovei 

— God bless your poor afflicted father-in-law ! He, perhaps, 
will not be here long. God spare him, if it be his will ! But 
may he, too, have the precious faith of God's elect! May his 
partner be blessed, supported, and sanctified I' 

" To his wife : ^ God be your father, and your husband ! I 
trust all mine will be kind to you. You have been a great bless- 
ing to me. We shall, I trust, meet in heaven. I have less 
doubt of you, than of myself 

" A message was communicated to him from his highly es- 
teemed friend, the Rev. Daniel Wilson, expressive,<imong other 
things, of the great benefit he had been to the church of Christ. 
' Now this,' said he ' is doing me harm. God he merciful to 
me a sinner^ is the only ground on which I can rest. The last 
time I spoke to the people, it was on those words, and I applied 
them to myself: Be merciful to me a sinner — the sinner — the 
chief of sinners. If I am saved, God shall have all the glory.' 

'^ A striking scene took place this evening, (March 23d,) 



1821.] AND DEATH. 341 

with one of his poor parishioners, which showed his anxious 
care of his flock, and his clear recollection of the character and 
peculiar circumstances of the individuals. After advising him 
on his situation and conduct, ^ Christ,' he observed ^ is all ; the 

world is nothing. Had I the property of , or a hundred 

times more, now that I lie here, w^hat would it be worth ? not 
a bubble of water. Seek to win Christ, Give up every thing 
— every thing but duty, to avoid contention — I have often pray- 
ed for you : often since I lay on this bed. Tell your wife to 
pray for me : she, at least, owes much to me. — I have often 
prayed for you all : particularly when 1 thought you were pray- 
ing for me.' 

" ' At any rate, I have been a plain man. The hypocrite 
— the formalist — will not pray always, I have always resolv- 
ed to enter eternity praying. Lord save me ! Naio the time is 
come.' 

" He had talked too much, and became agitated and distress- 
ed : but regained calmness in the night, and had some sleep. 
He said to his youngest son, who sat up with him, ^ What is 
the world and the glory of it ? I would not change my hope, 
lean and meagre as it is, for all the kingdoms of the world and 
the glory of them, were I sure of living a thousand years longer 
to enjoy them.' 

^^ Through the greater part of Saturday, (March 24,) he was 
calm, though often gloomy. It was delightful to sit by him : 
he talked much to himself, and prayed in a low voice. The 
presence of one of us did not disturb Am, while it was highly 
edifying and consoling to us. — In the afternoon he was shaved : 
and, on my asking him, whether it troubled him much, he said. 
*Not much :' and alluding to a playful term by which we had 
been used to describe that operation, he proceeded, ^ Oh that 
the Lord w'ould beautify me with salvation ! He will beautify 
the meek with salvation, (Psal. cxlix. 4.) That would be a 
beautifying.' — As I sat by him in the evening, he said, ^ You 
love and pity me : but that will do me little good. Your love 
and pity are beautiful, as far as they go : oh how beautiful are 
the love and pity of the Saviour /' 

'^ 1 asked him on Sunday afternoon, whether I should stay 
from church with him. ' Oh no,' he replied : ^ nothing gives 
me pleasure but what is for your good : and the thought that 
you pray for me.' 

^' Monday, March 26. To his servant : ' I thank you for all 
your kindness to me. You have been a faithful domestic, and 
I hope a conscientious one. If at any time I have been hasty 
and sharp, forgive me, and pray to God to forgive me : but lay 
the blame upon me. not upon religion.' 

29* 



^5Z ins LAST ILLNESS [CHAI*. XVI. 

" ' For one thing I rejoice — that I am not one of the Carhle 
party ; nor of the Humes and Rousseaus ; nor of the open 
profligates ; nor of the Pelagians, the self-justifiers. I might 
have been : I have done enough to provoke God to give me 
up.' 

" ^ May Christ be unto me wisdom^ and righteousness^ and 
justification and redemptions^ — he corrected himself, ^ sanctifi- 
cation and redemption:'' and added, ^ Lord let me have aZ?, 
though I should forget to ask aright!' 

*^ After mentioning his acute sufferings, such, he said, as he 
had previously no conception of, he added : ^ If any continu- 
ance here in them could be of the least spiritual benefit to any 
one, I should be wilHng to wait.' 

" On taking some refreshment : ' When / do not like any 
thing, I leave it ; but the Saviour, though the cup was so bitter, 
did not leave it till he could say, It is finished.^ 

" ' I know not how it is, I repent and believe : I think I am 
sure I do, but 1 do not obtain the clear sense of pardon. 
There seems a great gulf fixed ^ which I cannot pass.' My 
mother answered, ' It is disease.' ' Yes,' he said, ' the effect 
of disease.' 

" He expressed his fear that his death would occasion a sea- 
son of temptation to his people ; that the congregation would 
very probably be dispersed, in various directions ; and then ob- 
served, ^ It is just eighteen years since I came hither. I was 
vauch fiercer this day eighteen years, when taking leave of the 
people at the Lock'- — alluding to the common language of this 
part of the country, which describes good health and spirits by 
the term fierceness, I seemed a little surprised ; and he said, 
' Do not you remember that 1 preached my farewell sermons at 
the Lock on the 26th of March V 

" Afterward : ^ I have not that comfort I could wish : but I 
think my mind is made up to bear quietly whatever God may 
please to send me, however uncomfortable even to the end, if 
it be for his glory.' 

^^ On Tuesday morning, (March 27th,) he appeared dying, 
and suffered exquisitely. ^ Oh,' he said, ^ it is hard work. 
Death is a new acquaintance : a terrible one, except as Christ 
giveth us the victory ^ and the assurance of it. My flesh and 
my heart seem as if they wanted to fail, and could not. Who 
can tell what that tie is which binds body and soul together ? 
How easily is it loosened in some ; what a wrench and tear is it 
in others. Lord, loosen it, if it be thy will ! — I hope it is not 
wr6ng to pray for a release. If it be, God forgive me ! Yet, 
if it be thy will that I should wait for days and weeks, Thou 
art righteous,^ 



1821.] AlVD DEATH. 343 

'' Some refreshment was brought him, which he did not feel 
wilhng to take. He asked what was to be the effect of it, and 
seemed to fear being stupified. He was told it was only to 
make him more comfortable. ' That' he rephed, ^ is death's 
work, or rather Christ's work by death : but I will do as I am bid. 
In my circumstances, to do as man bids me in these things is 
the best way of doing what God bids me.' 

^^ He is continually repeating texts of Scripture and verses 
of hymns. — His tender affection for us all is astonishing in 
such a state of extreme suffering, and cuts us to the heart. 
On seeing my mother come in, he cried, ' Here comes an- 
other sufferer. Lord, thou art he that comfortest those that 
mourn : comfort her — support her ! Be thou the husband of 
the widow !' 

'^ He expressed his fear lest seeing him suffer so dreadfully 
should do us harm, and make us fear death in a way we ought 
not to do. — Still his desire for the promotion of the glory of 
God is the uppermost feeling in his mind. Father^ glorify 
thy name^ is his frequent language. — His deep humihty — the 
simplicity of his faith in Christ — his hatred of sin, his spiritual- 
ity of mind — his meekness, gentleness, and love, strike us all 
with admiration. He indeed receives the kingdom of God as 
a little child. The very way in which he mentions the name of 
the Saviour, it is delightful to hear. He seems as much hke 
him, as one can conceive any thing on earth to be : but his de- 
sires after holiness are such as will never be satisfied till he 
awakes in his likeness, 

" ' O Lord, magnify in me thy glory :— -thy justice — thy ha- 
tred of sin — thy love — thy truth — thy pity : and then take me 
to thyself 1' ' The way is dark and deep ; but 

His way was much deeper (rougher) 

And darker than mine : 
Did Jesus thus suffer, 

And shall I repine ?' 

These were some of his sentences. — Again : ' If I were what I 
ought to be, I should be willing to live in this state six months, 
if it might be of any spiritual use to the worst infidel.' Mr. 
D. said, ' You know our Saviour prayed. If it be possible let 
this cup pass from me : so that it cannot be wrong to shrink 
from suffering.' ' No,' he replied, ' I do not think that it is aU 
wrong. But I leave it in the hands of a Saviour, who is infi- 
nite in wisdom, power, and love : and I pray for patience. — 
I hope^ but I cannot but feel some fear : and it is such an efer- 



344 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

nal rish^ of such infinite importance, that the slightest fear seems 
to counterbalance even prevalent hope.' 

" Through the whole of Tuesday afternoon he was calm, 
and talked delightfully. He seemed to unite the cheerfulness, 
clearness of thought, and force of argument of his former days, 
with the extraordinary tenderness, humility, meekness, and 
love of his present situation. — On his second son's entering the 
room, he said to him — ^ Who am also an elder ^ and a witness 
of the sufferings of Christy and a partaker of the glory that 
shall he revealed : Feed the fiock of God that is among you^ 
dfc. ;' (1 Pet. V. 1 — 4,) and proceeded to converse in a most in- 
teresting manner about his own past mmistry. He had a bless- 
ed consciousness of having been faithful^ which was a source 
of gratitude to him. 

" To his grandson : ^ God bless you ! I have often preached 
to you, and sometimes talked to you ; and I have prayed for 
you a hundred times more. Seek and serve God. Religion 
is all that is valuable. You may think it does Httle for me now ; 
but it is all. May you be a blessing to your parents, to your 
brothers and sisters. You are the eldest : should you outlive 
your father, be a father to the rest. 1 have always particularly 
wished you might be a minister of Christ : but this I must 
leave. God's will be done !' 

'' On another occasion : ^ God bless you, and make you a 
blessing to your father, mother, brothers, sisters, cousins, the 
pupils, schools, poor, and if it might be, to his church.' — And 
yet again : ^ Once more, my dear grandson, God bless you, and 
make you a blessing to your father, and your dear, dear mo- 
ther, your brothers and sisters — a large blessing. Be ambi- 
tious, if I may so speak, to be useful. I have often prayed for 
you : pity me, and pray for me. You see me a great sufferer : 
but oh think not worse of Christ, or worse of religion, for that. 
— Think worse o^ sin: none suffer but sinners.' — He again 
blessed him with great affection, adding, ^ The Angel that re- 
deemed me from all evil^ bless the lads! — you, your brothers, 
and all your cousins, &.c. dLc' 

'^ One thing is not to be forgotten concerning these benedic- 
tions which he continued to pronounce upon his grandson, that. 
though he much longed that he should be a minister, he yet 
solemnly warned him not to take the sacred office upon him, 
unless he was conscious of a heart devoted to the work ol' 
it. ' Rather,' said he, ' make forks and rakes, rather plough 
the ground, and thresh the corn, than be an indolent ungodly 
clergyman.' 

" He begged his curate to forgive him if he had been oc- 
casionally rough and sharp. '• I meant it for your good ; but, 



1821.] AND DEATH. 345 

like every thing of mine, it was mixed with sin. — Impute it 
not, however, to my rehgion, but to my want of more reli- 
gion.' 

" To his nephew, the Rev. Thomas Webster, (who came 
this evening,) he said : ^ Hate sin more — Love Christ more — 
Pray more earnestly. — Beware of covetousness. — Your Col- 
lege feasts are sad things : Avoid animal indulgences, if you 
would lie easy on a dying bed.' 

'*• He slept much in the evening ; but almost always awoke 
praying Once he said, ^ Change this vile body of humiliation^ 
that it may he like thy glorified body, O Saviour ! but above all, 
let me have thy glorious holiness both of body and soul !' — 
^ How varying are my feelings ! But the great event cannot 
depend on what passes in a few half delirious days. No, my 
hope rests on a better foundation : it depends on my receiving 
the reconciliation^ — on my being found in Christ — made the 
righteousness of God in him. Oh for faith— ^aif^ that worketh 
by love — purifieth the heart — overcometh the world /' — He re- 
peated many texts, verses of hymns, &c. among them with 
great emphasis, 

* I wait for thy salvation, Lord> 

With strong desires I wait : 
My soul, encouraged by thy word, 

Stands watching at thy gate.' 

He again repeated his expressions of good- will to all, and par- 
ticularly his prayers for those who had opposed his views of the 
Gospel. 

" Wednesday morning, March 28. He has slept a good 
deal, and is calm and cheerful, though in great suffering. — 
' This,' he has said, ' is my last day. Still I have the last 
struggle to pass, and what that is, what that wrench is, who 
can tell me ? Lord, give me patience, fortitude, holy courage ! 
— I have heard persons treat almost with ridicule the expres- 
sion. Put underneath me the everlasting arms /j But it is ex- 
actly what I want — everlasting arms to raise me up ; to be 
strengthened with might by his spirit in the inner man — I am 
in full possession of all my faculties : I know I am dying : I 
feel the immense^ the infinite importance of the crisis : Lord 
Jesus receive my spirit! Thou art 'all I want:' ^ None 
but Jesus can do helpless sinners good.' — Blessed be God, 
there is one Saviour, though but one in the whole universe : 
and 

^ Bom. V. 11. Gr, t Deut. xxxiii. 27, 



346 HIS LAST ILLNESS [CHAP. XVI. 

* His love is as great as his power 
And neither knows measure nor end. 

'Tis Jesus the first and the last 

Whose spirit shall guide us safe home : 

We'll praise him for all that is past, 
And trust him for all that's to come.' 

— ^ Had any other done what Christ has for us — raised us from 
such a deplorable, lost, wicked state — shed his blood for us — 
sent his Spirit to quicken us ; would he not be greatly affront- 
ed if we were to doubt his perfecting his own work ! And yet 
we are apt to doubt Christ's love. God forgive us that, with 
all the rest of our offences ! — He that spared not his own Son^ 
but delivered him up for us all^ how shall he not^ with him^ also 
freelpgive us all things ?"* 

' Sin, my worst enemy before — 

x\h ! infinitely the worst ! 

* Sin, mj worst enemy before, 
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more ; 
My inward foes shall all be slain. 
Nor Satan break my peace again !' 

" While we were at family worship, he prayed aloud the 
whole time, and with his usual minuteness of intercession — for 
liis family, (naming the particular branches,) — his parish — the 
young — his benefactors — his enemies — his country — prisoners 
— various different classes of sinners — enlarging his views and 
petitions to every part of the world. 

" He wished again to receive the holy sacramcHt, if it was 
judged proper. ^ I mean it not,' he said, ^ as a form, but as a 
means of grace, appointed by the Saviour.' After receiving 
it, he was much exhausted, and said but little. On awaking 
from sleep after some time, he said, ' We have had, I think, a 
sacrament of love : no resentment, no ill-will, no heart-burn- 
ings ; all good-will, all love of God, and of one another for 
Christ's sake.' 

" March 28. He again blessed his grandson with great af- 
fection, and said, ' I cannot say, as Christ did. My peace I give 
7mto you : I cannot wish efficaciously^ only benevolently : but 
I mean what I say ; and that is not what you will find many 
do in this world. It is a very insincere world ; and a man 
who always means what he speaks, is not a common charac- 
ter : but he is often thought an unpleasant man, — as I have 
been.' 



1821.] AND DEATH. 347 

" He is so gentle and loving, it is so delightful to attend up- 
on him, that the servants, finding themselves in danger of con- 
tention which should wait upon him with refreshments, &.C., 
agreed together to take it by turns, that each might have he? 
due share of the pleasure and benefit. And yet he is continu- 
ally begging our forgiveness for his impatience and want of 
thankfulness, and entreating our prayers that God may forgive 
him. 

'^ ^ Our light affliction^ which is hut for a moment^ workethfor 
us afar more exceeding and eternal weight of glory — light com- 
pared with what sin deserves — with what the damned endure 
— with what the Saviour* suffered.' — He went through the 
whole passage^ commenting on every expression, but was not 
distinctly audible. 

" To c/ne of his servants : ' Pray for me : .1 value your pray- 
ers ; and that not a whit the less because you are a servant. I 
have often prayed for you^ and I trust that blessings have come 
upon ybu in consequence : Pray for me^ that, through your 
prayers, thanksgiving may redound unto God.' 

'^ ' Our happiness here, little as it is, consists in hungering 
and thirsting^ (Matt. v. 6,) but there we shall hunger no more^ 
neither thirst any more. — Now he is satisfied : Noup he is com- 
farted.' (Luke xvi. 25.) 

**^ He often checks his anxious desire to depart, and prays to 
be enabled to wait patiently — ^ that patience may have her jper- 
feet ibork,^ Yet he dreads the last unknown agony. He speaks 
x>f it. as the effect of sin, and therefore terrible. 

" In great suffering, in the evening, he exclaimed, ^ O death, 
when wilt thou come and finish this ? Thou answerest, When 
God sends me. — Grant me patience, merciful God !' — he then 
remarked on this : ' This is almost like praying to death. How 
much tendency is there to such random stufFamong protestants, 
as well as among papists, when the mind is excited.' 

" He now received intelligence, with great pleasure and gra- 
titude, of the birth of another grand-daughter, and some time 
after said, ' I have twenty-one grand-children ; the Lord bless 
them with all spiritual blessings, and make them blessings, large 
blessings in their families — to the church — and to the world 
— The God which fed me all my life long bless them! It mat- 
ters Httle what their station here is — even if servants, like 
Jacob : — the angel which redeemed me from all evil bless them I 
Only redeem them from all evil — from sin — from guilt — from 
the devil — from this present evil world — and bring them to 
everlasting glory !' 

'^ Thursday morning, March 29. On my entering the room 
— ' Again we meet once more. Oh how long will thi? last ? 



348 HIS LAST ILLNESS [cHAP. XVI. 

I feel as if I could not die. What need have I of patience and sub- 
mission ?' — It was suggested that he was kept here to do us 
good. ' Oh,' said he, ' my selfishness! I feel it difficult to be 
willing to stay, even if it were so. But I do so fear doing you 
harm : being carried away in great suffering, by any sudden 
temptation, to say or do what may injure you. — But I leave this ; 
and commit myself to the care of the merciful Saviour.' 

^'' He continually dwells on the sacramental service, and re- 
peats passages from it, particularly that prayer, ^ that we may 
be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction.' 

'' Referring to his death, he said, ^ I hope my family have too 
much good sense to make a raree-show of my funeral, either as 
respects the manner, or the place, or the, tombstone, or any in- 
scription upon it. Hath death its fopperies ! — I should wish 
every thing to be merely decorous — below par — indeed con- 
siderably below par to what is usual on such occasions. — If it 
be judged quite essential for a parson to lie within the church- 
walls, I will not put such a negative upon it as would be dis- 
tressing to survivers, though I think the dirtiest hole good 
enough. Whoever is paid, I wish the men who carry me to 
that long home to be amply remunerated. — There is a long do- 
cument which I wrote some years ago — a sort of counterpart 
to the Force of Truth : I do not wish any use to be made of it, 
but perhaps it may prevent errors and mistakes. I want no me- 
moirs nor obituaries.' 

" On another occasion, he desired, that ifany funeral sermon 
were to be preached for him, it might be, by all means, on a 
week day, not on a Sunday : probably from tenderness for the 
feelings of neighbouring ministers, whose congregations might 
otherwise be drawn away from them on the occasion. And 
lie intimated that the sentence, God he merciful to me a sinner^ 
(Luke xviii. 13.) might furnish a very proper text: dwelling 
on the word iXaC^yjTi, as implying mercy through a propitia-, 
Hon; and the tw ajuoa^TwXw, as signifying emphatically the 
sinner." 

After my arrival, (on Thursday, March 29,) fewer notes - 
were made. He frequently slumbered a good deal, and said 
less than before. One object, moreover, proposed in the me- 
morandums, no longer required them. My sister, however, has 
made the following minutes : 

" He still observed how his time passed, and lamented his 
incapacity to spend it constantly in prayer and praise. ' Could 
I be sure,' he said, ' that I was totally unable, I should be more 
satisfied : but I feel guilty. I seem at such times of stupor as 
if I had not fellowship either with the church on earth, or that 
in heaven.' 



1 82 1 .] AND DEATH. 349 

"On one occasion, after complaining of interruption, by 
which he had been '• kept from praying, he thought, for an 
hour and a half,' on being reminded how soon he would serve 
God day and night without ceasing, he exclaimed, with an 
energy of which we thought him incapable, ^ O what a transi- 
tion !' 

" On Tuesday, April 1 1 , my two younger brothers, with his 
grandson, were compelled to leave him. The parting was 
solemn, and deeply affecting. He poured forth prayers for them 
and theirs with his usual fervour ; and continued, long after 
they left the room, raising his hands and eyes to heaven in silent 
supplication, with an expression of countenance which can 
never be forgotten by those who witnessed. 

" On Sunday, April 1 5, he dismissed me to church in a very 
animated manner. After blessing me, and imploring blessings 
on all who should worship with me, and on all the congrega- 
tions of Christ's church, he said, raising his hands with great 
animation, ^ Blessed be the Lord God^ the God of Israel^ who 
only doeth wondrous things^ and let the whole earth he filled with 
his glory. He is highly exalted above all blessing and praise,^ 

^' On our return, he said to his curate, ^ 1 hoped I should have 
done first.' Mr. A. congratulated him on the happiness he en- 
joyed. ^ No,' he said, ' you are mistaken : my soul is not happy 
now ; it is still diseased : but I am waiting, and expecting soon 
to be quite happy.' Still his feeling was, that nothing but heaven 
could satisfy his enlarged desires. He added many prayers for 
Mr. A., and for the success of his ministry. 

'^ On Monday, while he was suffering great oppression, he 
said to the poor afflicted woman, who had so long been an in- 
mate in his family : ' This is hard work : but let us think of 
heaven ; let us hope for heaven ; let us pray for heaven. We 
shall soon meet again.' " 

In letters to friends, or members of the family still absent, a 
few sentences have likewise been preserved. In this way his 
observations on " posthumous reputation ;" his prayers '^ not to 
be abhorred of God, though abhorrible^ and abhorring himself" 
— to be made " one of those in whom Christ should come to he 
admired in that day f^ and some others, have been already re- 
ported. 

It may be remarked, in general, that his use of the language 
of the Lord's prayer was continual, during every part of his ill- 
ness ; as was likewise that of various parts of the Church Li 
turgy, particularly of the Communion Service, and the sentence 
in the Burial Service, ^^ Suffer me not, at my last hour, for any 
pains of death to fall from thee !" 

50 



350 HIS LAST ILLJ^ES^ [CHAP. XVI, 

His constant recurrence to my expression, " In God's good 
time," continued to the very end of his illness. On anothef 
occasion, on my suggesting the great tenderness of the lan- 
guage in the ciii. Psalm, " Like as a father pitieth his children^ 
so the Lord pitieth them that fear him,^' he expressed his sense 
of it, and immediately connected with it one in the Liturgy, 
which he said he greatly admired—- ^^ Let the pitifulness of thy 
great mercy loose us." — Another time I reminded him of one 
of the triumphant verses at the close of the Ixxiii. Psalm ; and 
on his questioning whether it might be appHed to him, (as I 
was aware he might probably do,) I remarked the writer's 
darkness and temptation in the former part of the Psalm — as if 
'^God had forgotten to be gracious," and had shut "up his 
loving kindness in displeasure" — but that in the end he found 
it was " his own infirmity," and that he " was continually with 
God," God had all the time " holden him by his right-hand." 
(Verse 23.) He replied, " Well, it is one of the passages that I 
keep working upon,^^ — One morning, near the close of his hfe, 
I expressed regret that he had spent so distressing a night : his 
reply was in the one word " PastP' with an air of indifference 
to it, as having no longer any existence. 

Some farther passages from the obituary may here be intro- 
duced. 

" Throughout his illness, all his tempers and dispositions 
marked a soul ripe for heaven. His patience was most exem- 
plary, though this was the grace which, almost more than any 
other, he feared would fail ; but it increased to the end. On 
the only point on which any approach to impatience had been 
discovered — his desire to depart — he had become almost per- 
fectly resigned ; and though he still inquired frequently if any 
' token for good,' as he called the symptoms of dissolution, ap- 
peared, yet on receiving a negative answer, he only observed, 
'Then I must seek a fresh stock of patience.' — His Idndnesa 
and affection, to all who approached him, were carried to the 
greatest height, and showed themselves in a singularly minute 
attention to all their feelings, and whatever might be for their 
comfort, to a degree that was quite afiecting ; especially at a 
time when he was suffering so much himself, often in mind as 
well as body. — Even in the darkest times. Thou art right- 
eous ! Father, glorify thy name ! — solemnly enunciated, 
was the sentence most frequently on his lips, and marked his 
profound submission, — His humility and sense of utter unwor- 
thiuess seemed more deep than words could express. — It need 
scarcely be said that Christ ^vas now more precious in his 
eyes than ever ; and his expressions of exclusive, undivided, 
and adoring adherence to him for salvation, if possible more 



1 82 1 .] ANJ> DEATH^ S5l 

strong. — At the same time, he refused the appropriation to him- 
self of those promises which belong only to true believers in 
Christ, except as it could be shown that he bore the character 
commonly annexed to the promise — such as those ihdXfear the 
Lord, that love God, repent^ believe^ and obey. When he 
could not trace this in himself, he would have recourse only to 
those which encourage even the chief of sinners to come to 
Christ, and assure them, that him that cometh he will in no wise 
cast out, 

'^ In this connexion it may be remarked, that whatever dis- 
satisfaction with himself he at any time expressed, he never in- 
timated the least wavering as to the truths which he had spent 
his life in inculcating, or impeached his own sincerity and faith- 
fulness in the discharge of his ministry." 

I only add farther, that he would always, when he received 
the sacrament, and, after a short prayer, which, during the latter 
part of the time, we every night offered up vvith him, have 
repeated to him the affecting commendation in the service 
for the Visitation of the Sick : " Unto God's gracious mercy 
and protection we commit thee : the Lord bless thee and keep 
thee : the Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gra- 
cious unto thee : the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, 
and give thee peace both now and evermore :" and most af- 
fecting was the solemnity with which he listened and pro^ 
nounced his Amen to it. 

Three days after his death, I made the following memo-^ 
randum of 

" His FEARS which were never realized. 

" L That he should bring any blot upon his profession. 
In addition to the dread with which every zealous Christian 
who loves God and man, will regard such an event, he felt 
himself placed in a pecuhar situation, on account of the atten- 
tion which he had attracted : that many eyes were upon him : 
that a material false step or inconsistency in him might, in a 
great degree frustrate the labours of a long and indefatigable 
life. This was not merely the apprehension of his death-bed. 
but one which had for years influenced him to walk circum- 
spectly. But now he rests from all such anxiety. All danger 
of this kind is past for ever. Death has put his broad seal upon 
the whole, and rendered what is done irrevocable. And. 
blessed be God ! the whole is substantially good. 

" 2. Lest in a period of enfeebled powers, he should unsay 
any thing, which, in a more sound state of mind, he had incul- 
cated, and should thus convey any less strict and less scriptu- 



'^^^^ HIS LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. [CHAP. XVI. 

ral views of Christian truth and duty ; and that this, getting 
abroad, should weaken the effect of what he had previously 
taught. But, so far from this being the case, whatever past, 
even to his latest hour, has tended more deeply to impress the 
serious, holy, practical views of the gospel which he always 
presented. ^ 

"3. Lest even under the influence of delirium, he should 
be driven to say or do any thing offensive or dishonourable to 
Cjod. He trembled lest, in this way at least, Satan should get 
^ny advantage against him, and thus take some '•revenge on 
him' at last, for what he had done against his kingdom during 
life. He seemed to apprehend a peculiar ^effort' of this sort 
against him ; and therefore prayed constantly. Bruise Satan 
under my feet shortly : and deprecated most earnestly the least 
failure of patience and resignation to the will of God.— And in 
these respects too, he was heard in that he feared. Nothing 
amounting to what is commonly esteemed delirium ever occur- 
red : nor did a word expressive of any thing contrary to the 
deepest piety and submission escape his lips. And his pa- 
tience under protracted and often very severe suffering, it was 
perfectly delightful to behold. 

••• 4. At times, though not generally, he even dreaded the 
consequences of death : ' Not,' said he, (as it has already been 
related,) ^ that I have not prevailing hope.' But about ten 
days before his death, he observed, ' I have not the dread which 
I felt of the consequences of death :' and he said little after- 
ward that indicated any return of it. 

" 5. But a dread of death itself, of the act and agony of dy- 
ing, next harassed his mind. ^ No man,' he said, ' can tell me 
what death is ; and I have an iron-strength of constitution 
which makes me tremble for the last struggle.' — But this toa 
subsided and disappeared : and, when the time came, oh how 
merciful was he, and were we all, dealt with, even in this minor 
consideration ! There was no agony, no struggle whatever. 
His countenance assumed a placid expression — one might 
almost say, a sweet and heavenly smile : and the whole appear- 
ance was more like that of an, infant sinking into sleep, than 
that of a strong man expiring." 

It might have been added, that, whereas he had anticipated 
at least departing under gloom and darkness, his darkness from 
time to time dispersed, and a heavenly light shone in upon his 
mind. The cheerful, as well as holy, sentiments which he ex- 
pressed on Sunday, the day before his death, have been record- 
ed, and the " delightful things" which he uttered on the day of 
his dissolution have been alluded to, though no distinct memo-^ 



1821.] CHARACTER AND HABITS. 353 

randum was made of them. — On the whole, therefore, we may, 
with adoring thankfulness, conclude — 

'^ Not one thing that he feared came upon him : but 

EVERY hope was REALIZED OR EXCEEDED." 



CHAPTER XVII. 



HIS CHARACTER HABITS SENTIMENTS ON EDUCATION. 

It has been my aim, in the preceding memoirs, to place 
the subject of them so fully in the view of my readers — speak- 
ing, writing, acting before them, — as to achieve that which an 
ancient Roman poet is said to have accomplished in his own 
writings— 

" Ut omnis 
Votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella 
Yita senis." 

So far, therefore, as I have attained my object, the necessity of 
any elaborate attempt, on my part, to delineate my father's 
character is superseded : he must be already better known than 
mere description could make him. 

Mr. Wilson, however, has given to the public, in his funeral 
sermons, a very masterly sketch of " the chief circumstances 
both of the public and private character" of his departed friend, 
^vhiah I should feel it a very essential omission not to introduce 
into the present work. This, therefore, I shall insert, — pre- 
iliising that it will serve to characterize some of my father's prin- 
cipal writings, as well as to portray their author. After this, 
1 shall subjoin some additional particulars, which have occurred 
to my own mind. 

" In considering, the public labours of our venerable friend," 
observes Mr. W., '^ we shall find that, after the Apostle's ex- 
ample, fie fought a good fight ^ finished his course^ and kepi the 
faith, 

^'^ The manner in which he was called to the spiritual com- 
bat was remarkable. His narrative of this spiritual change. 
we may venture to assert, will be classed in future times, witli 
the most important of those various works, which, in different 
ages, have recorded the triumphs of the gospel of Christ. ' The 
Foice of Truth' cannot indeed be equalled with ' The Confes- 

30^ 



354 CHAKACTEB [CHAP. XVlI. 

sions of St. Augustine ;' but it bears a general similarity to that 
incomparable work, in exemplifying the main features of a 
truly Christian conversion, in affording a striking illustration of 
the divine grace, and in setting before us an impressive picture 
of a laborious and successful investigation of truth. It reminds 
the reader yet more sensibly, though still with a wide inter- 
val, of the early history of Luther, and of the painful working 
out of his own way by intense prayer and study of the Scriptures, 
which distinguished that great Reformer. The church has, in 
fact, seen few examples, in these latter days, of the efficacy of 
the doctrine of Christ so minutely and satisfactorily detailed by 
the avowals of the individuals themselves, as in the instance 
which we are now considering. We here behold a man of 
strong natural powers, intrenched in the sophistries of human 
pride, and a determined opponent of ahnost all the chief truths 
of the gospel, gradually convinced and subdued. We see him 
engaging in a laborious study of the Scripture, with opinions 
and prejudices firmly fixed, and reluctant to admit a humiHa- 
ting scheme of theology : yet borne on, contrary to his expecta- 
tions and wishes and worldly interest, by the simple energy of 
truth. We view him arriving, to his own dismay, at one doc- 
trine after another. We behold him making every step sure • 
as he advances, till he at length works out by his own diligent, 
and most anxious investigation of the sacred volume, all the 
parts of divine truth, which he afterward discovered to be the 
common faith of the Church of Christ, to be the foundation of 
all the reformed communities, and to be essentially united with 
every part of divine revelation. He was thus taught the apos- 
tolical doctrines of the deep fall and apostacy of man, of his 
impotency to any thing spiritually good, the proper atonement 
and satisfaction of Christ, the triunity of persons in the God- 
head, regeneration and progressive sanctification by the Holy 
Spirit, justification by faith only, and salvation by grace. 
These great principles he perceived to be indissolubly connect- 
ed with repentance unto life, separation from the sinful customs 
and spirit of the world, self-denial and the bearing of reproach 
for Christ's sake, holy love to God and man, and activity in 
every good w^ord and work. — Farther, he learned to unite both 
these series of truths with dependence upon Christ for the sup- 
ply of needful grace, humble trust in his promises for final vic- 
tory, and an unreserved ascription of all blessings to the divine 
grace. Lastly, and after some interval, he embraced the doc- 
trines relating to the secret and merciful will of God in our 
election in Jesus Christ : although he did not think a belief in 
these mysterious doctrines to be indispensable to salvation, nor 



1821.] AND HABITS. 355 

consider the evidence for them, satisfactory as he deemed it, 
to carry with it that irresistible conviction which had attended 
his inquiries with respect to those essential and directly vital 
truths of religion before enumerated. The whole narrative of 
the change which led to the adoption of these views of religion, 
is so honest, and so evidently free from enthusiasm, as to con- 
stitute a most striking testimony to the efficacy of the grace of 
God. 

" After he had once discovered and embraced in all their 
fulness and practical application, the chief doctrines of the 
New Testament, he may truly be said to have kept the faith 
with undeviating constancy. During forty-five years, he con- 
tinued to teach and write, and live in the spirit of those holy 
principles. What he was with respect to them, in the earliest 
part of this period, the same he continued in the latest, except 
as each year added something to his conviction of their truth, 
and to the maturity of his judgment respecting them. There 
are ^e\w waiters in whom consistency is so strikingly observable 
through so many voluminous works. ^ He was placed at dif- 
ferent periods of his Ufe in many scenes of peculiar difficulty, 
where the current of opinion within as well as without his own 
more immediate circle, might have induced him to vary or con- 
ceal the faith upon some points of importance ; but nothing 
moved h\m from his own steadfastness.^ Nor was his scheme 
of doctrine more apostolical, than his method of publicly ex- 
pounding and applying it in his sermons and WTitings. He 
kept the faith^ by ever maintaining a theology, not only pure 
and orthodox as to its constituent elements and general charac- 
ter, but scripturally exact in the arrangement, the proportions, 
the symmetry, the harmony of its several doctrines, and in the 
use to which each was, on the proper occasion, apphed. In 
this view, the habit which he had been led to form of studying 
the Scripture for himself, and of diligent comparing all its parts 
with each other, was of essential service. He was not a man 
of ordinary mould. The humble submission to every part of 
divine revelation, the abstinence from metaphysical subtleties, 
the entire reliance on the inspired doctrine in all its bearings 
and consequences, the candour on points really doubtful or of 
less vital importance, which are the characteristics of his wri- 
tings, give them extraordinary value. While, for example, he 
firmly believed the essential and vital truths which I before 
noticed, he held with no less firmness the accountableness of 
man, the perpetual obligation of the holy law, the necessity of 

* Six volumes quarto, and nine or itn large volumes octavo, 
t 2 Pet. iii. 17. 



356 CHARACTER [CHAP. XVII. 

addressing the hearts and consciences of sinners, and of using 
without reserve the commands, cautions, and threatenings so 
copiously employed in the inspired books ; the importance of 
close inquiries into the detail of private, social, and relative 
duties, the necessity of pointing out those imperfections of 
temper or practice, by which a false religion betrays its un- 
soundness, and of following out the grand branches of Scrip- 
lure morals into their proper fruits in the regulation of the life. 
In a word, he entered as fully into the great system of plain 
means and duties on the one hand, as of the mysterious doc- 
trines of divine grace on the other. He united the Epistles of 
St. Paul and St. James. 

" With such fidelity, we wonder not that he had, like the 
Apostle before him, io fight a good fight. He was not a man 
to receive the impression of his age, but give it. On various 
occasions he thought it incumbent on him to come forward 
publicly in defence of the faith of the gospel : a task in the exe- 
cution of which, the firmest adherence to truth, and a candid 
treatment of his opponents, were ever united with singular 
knowledge of Scripture ; with great acuteness of reasoning, and 
with a simple honesty of purpose and of principle, w^hich it was 
difficult for an impartial inquirer to withstand. At the time 
when he first began to preach the gospel faithfully, he found 
many who had habituated themselves to such statements of the 
grace and privileges of Christianity, as tended insensibly to 
injure the minds of their hearers, by inducing them to separate 
the duties of the Bible from its doctrines. With such fatal 
errors he made no compromise. His early writings were chief- 
ly directed against this class of tenets, which, however uninten- 
tionally on the part of some who maintained them, verged to- 
wards the antinomian heresy. At a later period he engaged 
in a very different service — a contest with the adherents of 
infidelity. Towards the close of his days, opinions tending to 
magnify human merit, and in their effect subversive of the doc- 
trines of divine grace, attracted his notice, and were encoun- 
tered by him with the same manliness of resistance, which in 
earlier life he had opposed to errors of a contrary description. 
In all these instances few will hesitate to allow that he fought a 
-good fight. The prejudices w ith which a living controversial- 
ist cannot fail to be regarded, must of course be allowed to 
subside, before a calm judgment can be formed of his merits as 
a disputant, — or in general as a writer. But, when that period 
shall arrive, I doubt not that his laborious productions, more 
especially his masterly reply to the work entitled, ' A Refuta- 
tion of Calvinism,' will be admitted to rank among the soundest 
theological writings of our age. 



1821.] AND HABITS. 367 

" In these and other labours, he ^finished his course.^ For 
his attention was not absorbed in his writings. He was a la- 
borious minister in every function of that sacred calhng, and- 
especially, in the more retired walks of it. In the pulpit, in* 
deed, an asthmatical affection, added to a strong provincial ac- 
cent, an inattention to style and manner, and prolixity, render- 
ed his discourses less attractive than those of many very infe- 
rior men ; though even here, such were the richness and ori- 
ginality of his matter, such his evident acquaintance with Scrip- 
ture, and with the human heart, and such the skill which he 
evinced as a Christian moralist, that, by hearers of attentive 
and reflecting minds, he was listened to, not only with respect^ 
but with delight. But in visiting the sick, in resolving cases 
of conscience, in counselling young ministers, in assisting va- 
rious religious and benevolent institutions, his success was pe- 
cuharly great. Indeed, if his exertions as an author were left 
out of consideration, his other labours for forty-five years as the 
chaplain of a hospital, as a parish priest, and, generally, as a 
member of society, and of the Christian church, w'ould place 
him on a level with most pious clergymen, however zealous, 
diligent, or useful. 

^^ But his widest, and most important field of usefulness, and 
that which I have reserved for the last topic in the considera- 
tion of his public character, was a commentator on the Holy 
Scriptures. In this, he may be truly said to have finished his 
course^ as well as fought a good fights and kept the foith. It 
is diflScult to form a just estimate of a work on which such an 
author laboured for thirty-three years. It entitles him, of it- 
self, to rank at the head of the theologians of his own time, as 
at once the most laborious and important writer of the day. 
The capital excellency of this valuable and immense underta- 
king, perhaps consists in the following, more closely than any 
other, the fair and adequate meaning of every part of Scripture, 
without regard to the niceties of human systems : it is, in eve- 
ry sense of the expression, a scriptural comment. It has, like- 
wise, a farther and a strong recommendation in its originality. 
Every part of it is thought out by the author for himself, not 
borrowed from others. The later editions, indeed, are en- 
riched with brief and valuable quotations from several wri- 
ters of credit — but the substance of the work is entirely his 
own. It is not a compilation, it is an original production, 
in which you have the deliberate judgment of a masculine 
and independent mind on all the parts of Holy Scripture. 
Every student will understand the value of such a w^ork. Far- 
ther, it is the comment of our age, presenting many of the 



358 ' CHARACTER [CHAP. XVH. 

last lights which history casts on the interpretation of prophe- 
cy, giving several of the remarks which sound criticism has 
accumulated from the different branches of sacred literature, 
obviating the chief objections which modern annotators have 
advanced against some of the distinguishing doctrines of the 
gospel, and adapting the instructions of Scripture to the pecuhar 
circumstances of the times in which we live. I may observe, 
also, that the faults of method and style, which cotisiderably de- 
tract from the merit of some of his other writings, are less ap- 
parent here, where he had only to follow the order of thought 
in the sacred book itself; whilst all his powers and attainments 
have their full scope. It was the very undertakmg which re- 
quired, less than any other, the qualifications which he did not 
possess, and demanded, more than any other, those in which 
he excelled. It required matured knowledge of Scripture, skill 
as a textuary, sterhng honesty, a firm grasp of truth, unfeigned 
submission of mind to every part of the inspired records, a holy 
temper of heart, unparalleled diligence and perseverance : and 
these were the very characteristics of the man. — When to these 
particulars it is added, that he lived to superintend four editions, 
each enriched with much new and important matter, and had 
been engaged above three years in a new one, in which for the 
fifth time, he had nearly completed a most laborious revision of 
the whole work, we must, at least, allow the extent and import- 
ance of the author's exertions. Accordingly, the success of 
the work has been rapidly and steadily increasing from the 
first, not only in our own country, but wherever the English 
language is known. It will soon be in the hands of most care- 
ful students of the holy volume, whether in the first instance, 
they agree with the author's chief sentiments or not. Nor is 
the time distant, when the passing controversies of the day 
having been forgotten, this prodigious work will generally be 
confessed in the Protestant Churches, to be one of the most 
sound and instructive commentaries produced in our own or 
any other age 

'^ To these more pubhc labours, I proceed to add the charac- 
teristics of Ms private life^ as a Christian, which corresponded 
to them, and were, indeed, under the divine blessing, their 
spring and source. All he did as a writer and a minister, pro- 
ceeded from what he was as a humble believer in Jesus Christ. 
In this view, also, he fought a good Jight^ and finished his course^ 
and kept the faith. 

^'* Determination of mind in serving God formed the basis 
of his character, and gave strength and firmness to every other 
part of it. Whatever else he was, he was most decisive in re- 



? 1 82 1 .] A1S» HABITS. 359 

ligion. From the time he began in earnest to investigate the 
doctrines of the Bible for himself, he not only admitted them 
as true in proportion as he discovered them to be such, but 
acted upon them, governed his temper and conduct by them, 
fearlessly professed them before men, and cheerfully suffered 
whatever reproach or difficulties they might occasion. No one 
could ever mistake him. He always avowed what he consci- 
entiously believed to be true, whatever others, even his nearest 
connexions, might think. Timidity, reserve, subterfuge, con- 
cealment, ambiguity, love of the world, were not his faults. 
The manner in which he had slowly and reluctantly arrived at 
truth at first, gave him such an assured confidence that he was 
?ight, that nothing afterward could turn him aside. The 
fashionable opinions or practices of the day, the number or sta- 
tion of his opponents, the distractions and divisions of parties, 
the plausible appearance of certain errors, the reputation foF 
piety or talent of those who incautiously favoured them, made 
no difference to him. A powerful, discriminating judgment, 
and an intimate acquaintance with every part of Scripture, 
gave such a tone of firmness to his habits of thinking and act- 
ing,that beseemed like a giant taking his course among chil- 
dren, regardless of their puny opposition, and bent only on the 
achievement of his own great objects. It must, on the othe? 
hand, be owned, that he sometimes erred by want of sufficient 
consideration for the feelings and prejudices of others, and 
sometimes was betrayed into rudeness and over-confidence — J 
wish not to conceal his human failings — but these faihngs he 
constantly opposed, and, as he advanced in life, almost entirely 
subdued ; while the sterling honesty and determination of 
his character, the spring of all his usefulness, remained un- 
impaired. 

" Extraordinary diligence was the handmaid to his capital 
excellency. He was always at work, always busy, always re- 
deeming time ; yet never in a hurry. His heart was given up 
to his pursuits ; he was naturally of a studious turn ; and his 
labour was his delight. He gradually acquired in a degree be- 
yond most men, the habit of abstracting his mind from sensible 
objects, and of concentrating his thoughts on a particular topic ; 
nor could the distractions inseparable from a hurried journey, 
or from a walk through the busy scenes of a great city, at all 
divert him on such occasions from the course of thought in 
which he was engaged. And whenever a subject which he 
had once studied, was proposed to him, he could immediately 
fix his mind intently upon it, and recall all the chief arguments 
by which it was supported. So that he lived, in fact, twice the 
lime that most other students do in the same number of years. 



360 CHARACTER ^ [CHAP. XVII. 

To support this, he had an iron-strength of constitution. And 
for five or six and forty years, he studied eight or ten hours a 
day, and frequently twelve or fourteen, except when interrupt- 
ed by sickness. His very relaxations were often equal to the 
diligence of others. But it was not merely incessant labour 
which distinguished this remarkable man— it was incessant labour, 
directed to important objects. His attention was always occu- 
pied by his proper work. He was not merely studious, but stu- 
dious of what was immediately useful. He was not a desultory 
reader attracted by every novelty, and wasting his time on infe- 
rior topics or authors of less moment ; but a reader of what 
was solid and appropriate, and directly subservient to the great 
subject in hand. From an early age, indeed, he was almost 
entirely self-taught ; the only education he received having 
been at a grammar-school, from the age of ten to fifteen. He 
had no aid afterward from masters, small means for the purchase 
of books, and scarcely any access to great collections. A few 
first rate works formed his library, and these he thoroughly 
mastered. He never remitted his exertions in improving his 
works. After thirty-three years bestowed on his Comment, 
he was as assiduous in revising as he had originally been in 
composing it. The margmal references cost him seven years 
of labour. And the interval between the fourth and present 
edition was employed in attempting a Concordance on a new 
pl^n, which he did not live to complete, but which, by keeping 
in exercise that minute acquaintance with Scripture, and that 
aptitude of reference, for which he was distinguished, must 
have materially assisted him in his last revision. 

'' In his domestic circle^ his character was most exemplary. 
No blot ever stained his name. A disinterestedness and un- 
bending integrity in the midst of many difficulties, so raised him 
in the esteem of all who knew him, as greatly to honour and 
recommend the gospel he professed. He was, in all respects, 
an excellent father of a family. What he appeared in his 
preaching and writings, that he was among his children and 
servants. He did not neglect his private duties on the ground 
of public engagements ; but he carried his religion into his 
house, and placed before his family the doctrines he taught, 
embodied in his ov/n evident uprightness of conduct. This 
determination and consistency in personal religion, instructed 
his children better than a thousand set lessons. It is indeed 
commonly found that the general behaviour and conversation 
of parents produce a decidedly deeper impression on the minds 
of the young than any formal instructions, however in them- 
selves excellent. When children are addressed directly, their 
minds recoil, or at least their attention is apt to flag ; but thei? 



1821.] AND HABITS. 361 

own shrewd obscfv^ions on what they see done or hear said 
by others, on the estimates which they perceive their parents to 
form of things and characters, and on the governing principles 
by which they judge their conduct to be regulated, sink deep 
into their memories, and in fact constitute by far the most ef- 
fective part of education. It was on this principle that our de- 
ceased friend acted. He did not inculcate certain doctrines 
merely, or talk against covetousness and the love of the world, 
or insist on the public duties of the sabbath, or the private ones 
of the family, whilst the bent of his conversation was worldly, 
his tempers selfish, his habits indulgent, and his vanity or am- 
bition manifest under the thin guise of religious phraseology : 
but he exhibited to his household a holy and amiable pattern 
of true piety — he was a man of God — imperfect indeed, but 
consistent and sincere. Accordingly, all his children became, 
by the divine mercy, his comfort during life, and now remain 
to call him blessed, and hand down his example to another ge- 
neration. 

" A spirit of prayer and devotion was, farther, a conspicuous 
ornament of his character. He lived near to God,'^ Interces- 
sory prayer was his delight. He was accustomed in his family 
devotions to intercede earnestly for the whole church, for the 
government of his country, for the ministers of religion, for 
those preparing for the sacred office, for schools and universi- 
ties, for the different nations of Christendom, for the heathen 
and Jews, and for all religious institutions ; varying his suppli- 
cations as circumstances seemed to dictate. As he approach- 
ed the close of life, his deep humility of mind, and his zeal for 
the glory of his Saviour, were very affecting and edifying to 
those who were present on these occasions. He was the age^ 
saint filled with the love of God and man, and supplicating for 
the whole human race. More especially, he had for above 
twenty years been constantly imploring of God that he would 
open some way for the conversion of the world, as well as the 
more extensive diffusion of genuine Christianity at home, be- 
fore he saw any apparent means for the accomplishment of his 
desires ; and, when the establishment of the Bible and Mission- 
ary institutions seemed to afford a prospect of the consumma- 
tion which he had so fervently desired, his thanksgivings to 
God abounded. His studious and secluded life by no means 
produced any indifference as to the active schemes which were 
formed for the salvation of mankind, nor any undue or unrea- 
sonable fastidiousness as to the means employed — faults often 

* Psalm cxlviii. 14. 

31 



362 CHARACTER [CHAP. XVII. 

connected with literary habits — but whenever the end of reli- 
gious societies was good, and the methods they employed law- 
ful, he prayed most earnestly for their prosperity, and blessed 
God for their success ; though perhaps, in the details of their 
constitution or proceedings, there might be some things which 
he could not fully approve. Thus were his firmness and ener- 
gy softened by candour and enlarged benevolence. 

'^ His faith and patience under afflictions must not be oncfit- 
ted. Though his constitution in itself was robust, his health 
was far from being good. An obstinate asthma, with exhaust- 
ing bilious attacks, exposed him at times to acute sufferings for 
more than forty years of his life. Inflammatory fever succeed- 
ed these diseases during the last seven years, aggravated by a 
malady most inconvenient and alarming. He had, moreover, as 
those who know his private history are well aware, painful 
mortifications and vexations to endure whilst he resided at Ol- 
ney, and still more severe ones during a large part of the seven- 
teen years which he spent in London. His great work, the 
Commentary, was also the occasion of almost constant per- 
plexity, embarrassment, and disappointment, for nearly the whole 
of the first fourteen years of his labours upon it ; so that almost 
any other person would have relinquished the undertaking in 
despair. To these must be added a frequent recurrence of se- 
vere domestic trials and calamities, often increased by dejec- 
tion of spirits. Yet his faith and patience bore up under all. 
Those who observed him in scenes of peculiar difficulty, were 
often reminded of the words of the royal preacher, the spirit of 
a man will sustain his infirmity.'^ This seemed to be the brief 
history of his life. Perhaps few writers, who ultimately attain- 
ed the esteem and influence of this remarkable man for the 
last twenty years of his labours, ever reached such an eminence 
through greater discouragements of almost every description. 
During the twenty-five years preceding that period, he had ex- 
perienced inconveniencies and difficulties, in a degree that can 
scarcely be imagined by any but his intimate friends. 

" I close this review of his character by noticing the gradu- 
al hut regular advances lohich he made in every branch of real 
godliness^ and especially in overcoming his constitutional fail- 
ings This is, after all, the best test of Christian sincerity. A 
man may profess almost any principles, or hold any kind of 
conduct for a time ; but to continue a self-denying course of 
consistent and growing piety, to apply the strict rule of the di- 
vine law honestly and unreservedly to the whole of our con- 

* Prov. xnii. 14. 



1821.] AND HABITS. 3QZ 

duct, to cultivate carefully every branch of our duty, to resist 
and contend against the evil tempers and dispositions to which 
we are naturally most prone — and to unite all this with humble 
trust in the merits of our Saviour, and with unfeigned ascrip- 
tion of every thing good in us to His grace and mercy ; this it 
is that marks a real renovation of heart, and stamps the genuine 
believer in the gospel of Christ. And such was the individual 
whom we are considering. His failings, as I have already in- 
timated, lay on the side of roughness and severity of temper, 
pride of intellect, and confidence in his own powers. But from 
the time when he first obeyed with his whole heart the truth of 
the gospel, he set himself to struggle against these and all other 
evil tendencies, to study self-control, to aim at those graces 
which are most difficult to nature, and to employ all the mo- 
4ives of the gospel to assist him in the contest ; and he gradu- 
ally so increased in habitual mildness, humility, and tenderness 
for others, as to become no less exemplary for these virtues 
than he had long been for the opposite qualities of religious 
courage, firmness, and determination. He used to observe, 
that it was no excuse for a man to allege, that this or that holy 
temper was not his turn ; for every grace ought to be, and must 
be, the turn of every sincere Christian. I can most truly say, 
that during an acquaintance of about twenty-five years, which 
gradually matured, on my part, into a filial affection, 1 scarcely 
ever saw an instance of more evident growth in real obedience, 
real love to God and man, real victory over natural infirmities, 
in a word, real Christian hoHness. In the concluding years of 
his hfe, he was, as it appeared to me, obviously ripening for 
heaven. He had fought a good fight ^ he had finished his course, 
he had kept the faith ; so that at last, his genuine humility be- 
fore God, his joy in Christ Jesus, his holy zeal for the diffusion 
of the gospel, his tender affection to his family and all around 
him, his resignation to the will of his heavenly Father, and his 
exclusive trust in the merits and grace of his Saviour, seemed 
to leave Httle more to be done, but for the stroke of death to 
bring him ^o his grave in a full age^ like as a shock of corn co* 
meth in its season!'''' 

To this vigorous and animated decision, I shall now add a 
few particulars from my own observation and reflection. 

What was the class of intellectual endowments that distin- 
guished my revered father, must be obvious to all who are ac- 
quainted with his works. Acuteness, comprehension, close 
reasoning, judgment, — these are every where apparent. In that 
imagination, which might have enlivened and adorned his 
preaching and writings, he was no doubt deficient. Nor did he 
advance pretensions to that boldness and novelty of conception 



364 CHARACTEE [CHAP. XVII. 

which bestows the title of genius. Yet his train of thinking 
was always marked by that degree, at least, of originality 
which made it fairly his own, and rendered it interesting to all 
who are competent to appreciate it, and to compare it with 
what was current among other writers upon similar subjects. 
His style was grave and unadorned, but manly, and in general 
clear and vigorous ; often conveying forcible sentiments in a 
concise and striking manner : and, as has been intimated in a 
letter inserted in this work, he v/as studious to exclude those 
peculiarities of language, which havje frequently given needless 
disgust in rehgious writings ; though he could never consent to 
scruple the use of Scriptural phraseology. — The admirable 
Henry Martyn has made the following remark in his journal. 
April 26, 1807: "Began Scott's Essays, and was surprised, 
indeed, at the originahty and vigour of the sentiments and lan- 
guage." 

Sound judgment was, equally with vigour and decision, the 
characteristic of his mind. It discovers itself in his early days, 
and it grew in him to the last ; and gave, under the divine gui- 
dance and teaching, which he so constantly supplicated, that 
steadiness and consistency to his character, conduct, and wri- 
tings, which Mr. Wilson has celebrated. The unprejudiced 
observer will, I think, admit it to be very striking to consider, 
at what sound and sober views of Scriptural theology he so 
early arrived ; such that he never saw reason afterward to alter 
them in any point worthy of notice. And this did not arise 
from his embracing in toto the system of any set of men : he 
escaped the errors of those whom he joined, as well as renoun- 
ced those of the class which he had left. Thus, while ac- 
knowledging in the Force of Truth his obligations to the wri- 
tings of the excellent Mr. Hervey, he still avows his disagree- 
ment with him upon some points : and late in life he says, 
concerning one for whom he entertained a great esteem, " I 
always thought his writings on the point of religious experi- 
ence narcotic to those within^ and calculated to excite prejudi- 
ces, and give plausibility to those without.''^ No : it was the 
exercise of a sound, yet humble mind, in the intense meditation 
of God's testimonies^ which thus made him, in some points, 
wiser than his teachers. 

At the close of twenty years, he prefixed to the fifth edition 
of his Force of Truth, a solemn declaration, which he renewed 
in every subsequent edition till his death, that, " every thing he 
had experienced, observed, heard, and read, since the first pub- 
lication of the work, had concurred in establishing his most 
assured confidence, that the doctrines recommended in it were 
the grand and distinguishing peculiarities of genuine Christianiv 



nWT] AND HABITS. 365 

ty." Of the importance of such a declaration, we may judge 
from the following anecdote. ^' When the Force of Truth 
first came into my hands," said an excellent and learned per- 
son, '•' at a time when I did not at all concur in its doctrines, 
the first thing which it occurred to me to ask was, ^ What has 
been the subsequent history of this man ? He tells us of one 
great change : he may have made many more since.' Receiv- 
ing a satisfactory answer to this inquiry, I was prepared to pay 
a more serious attention to his arguments." 

His great judgment also appeared in his so studiously con- 
templating the different bearings of his sentiments, and the limi- 
tations necessary to be put upon what he advanced, with a view 
to preclude objections, that, while no one would ever charge 
him with temporizing, he never drew forth an avowed opponent, 
except, 1 think, in one instance, w^iich neither deserved, or 
obtained the least public attention. 

The preceding remarks relate to the powers of his under- 
standing : those which follow^ pertain more to the temper of 
his heart. 

Mr. Wilson has observed, that " love of the world was not 
his fault ;" that " disinterestedness w^as a feature of his charac- 
ter ;" that he did not '-'- talk against covetousness and the love 
of the world, while the bent of his conversation was worldly, 
and his temper selfish." This is most true : but it is not all 
that deserves to be said upon the subject. I must give it as 
my deliberate judgment, which I think will be sanctioned by 
the suffrages of those who most closely observed him, that, of 
all the men I have known, he manifested the most unfeigned 
and practical belief of those numerous Scriptures, which pro- 
nounce riches dangerous to the welfare and salvation of the 
soul ; and that, in consequence, acting upon his ow^n favourite 
maxim, that what is best for the soul is really best for us, he 
ever looked upon worldly possessions with a jealous eye, for 
his family as w^ell as for himself. Particularly, he deprecated 
the idea of clergymen aspiring at wealth — meaning by that 
term much more moderate property than some would under- 
stand by it. His sentence at the beginning of his reliofious ca- 
reer, will not be forgotten : '^ We are to live at the altar ; but a 
livings a bare decent maintenance, without any avaricious or 
ambitious views of advancing ourselves or our families, or han- 
kering after indulgence, should content us."* He acted on 
this principle through life. Subsequently, we have heard him 
declare, that •' if a man have faith strong enough, and urgent 

''^ Letter of Julj 13, 1775. , 

31* 



366 CHARACTER ^^[CHAP^mi^^^ 

occasions call for it, he may, perhaps, do as well for his family, 
if he expends what he has to spare in judicious charities, as if 
he lays it by;" and again, that, "in some cases, he should 
think it right to make a point of disposing in charity, of at least 
as much as was laid by — and this," he adds, " I call seed- 
corn,^'^ Yet it should be observed, that he had a great objec- 
tion, where it could be avoided, to public collections bemg 
made for a clergyman's family after his decease. The necessity 
for this, he thought, should be guarded against by all fair 
means. Nor should it be supposed, that he in any way re- 
flected upon clergymen who were born to wealth, or on whom 
providence otherwise conferred it, if only they made a proper 
use of it. Aspiring ^fter it was what he condemned. 

Agreeably to these sentiments, we have seen him expressing 
a strong disapprobation of ministers encumbering themselves 
with lucrative academies, and losing, perhaps, the sacred cha- 
racter in that of tutors. He had, if possible, a still stronger 
aversion to their aiming at rich marriages. A marriage with a 
rich wife is, I believe, what none of his sons would have ven- 
tured to propose to him. Few things would have alarmed him 
more for their safety ; or more grieved him, as a dereliction of 
the principles with which he had laboured to inspire them. 
Often have we heard him descant with satisfaction on the case, 
I think, of Mr. Walker, of Truro, who declined a connexion 
with a lady, in all other respects suitable, because she possess- 
ed 10,000Z. ! and often mention the sarcastic congratulation 
offered at a visitation, by a dignified clergyman to an evange- 
lical brother, who had married a lady of fortune, " Aye, aye, 

brother , we all aim at the same object, though we have 

our different ways of attaining it 1" Hence, when many years 
ago, two young ladies of large fortune were placed under his 
care, it was one of his counsels to them, that neither of them 
should marry a clergyman : "for," said he, "if he is not a 
good one, he is not worthy of you ; and, if he is a good one. 
you will spoil him." 

And all that we have been now relating, was held it should 
be observed, and persisted in, by one who had felt more than 
most men the inconveniences arising from the want of money, 
even as an obstruction to his great and good designs. 

All this must appear sufficiently extraordinary to those who 
Form their notions from what is current not only in the world, 
l3Ut in the visible church. To " worldly-wise men," it will, no 
doubt, even seem extravagant. But 30 did our Lord's doc- 
trine upon the self-same subject : " The Pharisees, also, who 

* Letter of March 15, 1805. 



were covetous, heard all these things ; and they derided him :" 
they snvffled at him, in scorn and derision. It cannot be won- 
dered at, if those to whom the rule would appear extravagant, 
should esteem the practice^ which is conformable to it, to be 
so : and, inverting the proposition, it may be feared, that those 
who so judge of ihe practice,, would have judged in like manner 
of the rule^ had it not proceeded from an authority to which 
they are accustomed to defer. 

Let it not however, be supposed, that while I vindicate, as 
well as record my father's sentiments, I pretend to have risen 
to the level of them myself. To describe, and even to approve, 
is one thing ; to follow, passibus cequis^ is another. 

But it was not only under the form of the love of money that 
he guarded against a worldly spirit; he was equally jealous of 
it in every shape. The reader will not have forgotten how he 
rejoiced with trembling at a very slight degree of credit obtain- 
ed by one of his sons at the university. To the same son, he 
also remarked, that, though he did not tell him so at the time, 
it had been one object in selecting his college to send him 
W'here he would not be Hkely to get a fellowship. And, 
though he gave or procured for all his sons an university edu- 
cation, yet so studiously did he exclude every other view than 
that of their going forth at once, like himself, as humble parish 
priests, that I believe I may say, they entered upon life almost 
without having conceived the idea of those more lucrative and 
more envied openings which an university may sometimes 
present. 

It may not be improper here to add, that, as my father wrote 
only for usefulness, and neither for gain nor fame, he always 
pubhshed his w^orks at as low a price as he could at all afford 
them, that they might be accessible to the humble class of read- 
ers. Repeatedly, indeed, this price turned out lower than he 
could afford. Once, in a letter, he remarks, concerning his 
Bible, as a matter of calculation, " I find that my five pound 

book would make fifty of 's ten shilHngs book :" yet the 

book in question was not one of the dearest specimens we have 
seen. Without, however, wishing to reduce others to his own 
standard in this respect, he certainly felt a degree of disgust 
when he saw the desire of money-getting so evidently stamped 
upon religious publications, calculated for general instruction, 
as to confine their utility to those who could pay somewhat ex- 
travagantly for it. 

In a man acting upon such principles, much liberality in bts 
dealings, and an ample charity in proportion to his circum- 
stances, would naturally be expected ; nor would the expecta 



UHAKAUTEB J^CHAP. XVII. 

tion be disappointed by the fact. Towards servants, labourers, 
and the poor, he always acted in the most kind, and even boun- 
tiful manner. He expressed his approbation of Mr. Berridge's 
advice, who said to country clergymen, '^ Keep a barrel of ale 
in your house, and when a man comes tQ you with a message, 
or on other business, give him some refreshment, that his ears 
may be more open to your religious instructions." It was al- 
ways hkewise his maxim, that we ought to support, during sick- 
ness, or when worn down with age, those of whose services we 
have had the benefit during their health and strength. Hence 
at his death he bequeathed, out of the little property he had to 
leave, an annuity of 121, to one who had spent abeve thirty 
years in his service ; though she had eventually married from 
him. 

On one particular mode of his charities, (an instance of which 
has, indeed, come under our notice,) we may again hear the 
lady, to whom we were indebted for the account of his Sunday 
labours. ^^One more particular," she says, '^ I have to note, 
which always gave me pleasure, as proving the union of judg- 
ment and benevolence, namely, the cases of , and , 

and others. Circumstances not allowing of unassisted pecu-' 
niary relief, your good father and mother received into their 
house, while others contributed to their support, those who 
would otherwise have pined in solitude and neglect : an exam- 
ple I should like to see imitated in the habitations of many pious 
persons, as a means of doing more extensive good than many 
expensive institutions. And, it can scarcely be doubted, 
that the prayers of those, so favoured, have had their share in 
drawing down the blessings which have descended on the fa- 
mily." 

But indeed, in all his pecuniary transactions, while he guard- 
ed against profusion, there was a certain " largeness of heart"* 
about him, which highly adorned his profession. What is that 
betwixt me and thee?] was a sentence frequently in his mouth, 
wherever small matters were concerned. And in this connex- 
ion, the testimony borne soon after his decease, by the farmer 
from whom he received all his income as rector of Aston, may 
be quoted as of much weight: ^' Never," said he, " was there 
any thing mean, little, or selfish about Mr. Scott." 

In all respects he was a man of a remarkably open temper : 
and, though this might occasionally produce him some uneasi- 
ness, he always thought such a turn of mind, accompanied by 

* 1 Kings IV. 29. 

t Gen. xxiii. 1 5. See tlie chapter throughout. 



1821.] AND HABITS. 369 

a tolerable share of prudence, carried a person through more 
difficulties than it created him. 

Another particular to which I would a httle farther advert is, 
his close adherence to the Scriptures ; his constant recurrence 
not only to their instructions, for the determination of important 
questions of truth and duty, but to their example, as the best 
standard even upon very inferior points. Perhaps the more 
insignificant the instance I give, the more effectually may it 
illustrate what I state concerning the extent to which this prac- 
tice was carried. On this ground I mention the following. 
He once took a momentary prejudice against a writer's speak- 
ing of himself in the plural number, rather than simply using 
the pronoun I: and I was somewhat amused to find him imme- 
diately trying his sentiment by Scriptural usage. " How," said 
he, " do the inspired writers speak ?" Their sanction of the 
practice objected to, I presume, satisfied his mind ; as no more 
was heard of the objection ; nor is it, probably, remembered 
by any one but myself 

Not only his general benevolence, but his catholic spirit to- 
wards all pious Christians, however separated from him in un- 
essential things, deserves particularly to be commemorated. 
This was manifested in the fervency of his prayers for them ; 
in his readiness, wherever he could with propriety do it, to se- 
cond their efforts to do good ; in his cordial joy in their success, 
and sympathy in their disappointments ; and in the habits of 
intimate friendship, and, as we have seen, of confidential cor- 
respondence, in which he lived, with some, from whom he dif- 
fered on points which he did not think unimportant. He could 
avow his sentiments, and allow them to avow theirs, where they 
disagreed, and yet could love them as brethren, united in far 
greater things than those which divided them. Accordingly- 
the following lines were, soon after his death, apphed to him, 
in print, by a neighbouring Baptist minister, of whom he had 
not scrupled sometimes to complain, as making injurious in 
roads npon his flock : 

" To sect or party his large soul 

Disdain'd to be confined ; 
The good he loTed of every name, 

And prayed for all mankind." 

And here I may be allowed to say a few words concerning 
his Calvinism. May I not be bold to appeal to great numbers, 
whether they must not admit the subject of these memoirs 
to have been a very different character, as to morals, temper, 
the practical nature of his views of Christianity, concern for 



370 CHARACTER [CHAP. XVH, 

the salvation of all mankind, and his whole manner of address- 
ing men, in order to the promotion of their galvation, from 
what they are ready to suppose a decided Calvinist must be ? 
Where will they find greater benevolence, greater strictness, 
and greater exertion, than have been here exhibited to them ? 
Will they admit the fact, but contend that all this was a happy 
inconsistency with the principles which my father had embra- 
ced ? He himself, at least, steadily maintamed the contrary, 
and affirmed that his principles naturally tended to a much 
higher degree of universal poodness, than he could ever give 
himself credit for having attained : and it is certain, that all his 
more distinguished brethren, who shared with him the reproach 
of Calvinism, such as Newton, Henry Venn, Robinson, Cecil, 
Milner, Richardson, and many others — concurred in this con- 
viction of the practical tendency of their doctrines, which 
they all hkewise exemplified, in their own fives and conversa- 
tion, in a manner not likely to be soon surpassed. — To what 
end then do I direct these observations ? to the promotion of 
Calvinism properly so called ? No : but to evince that Cal- 
vinists are not necessarily so far removed from all that is 
Christian, as some persons seem ready to suppose they must 
be. 

For myself, I confess that I am little disposed eagerly to 
contend for any peculiarities of Calvin's creed : but of one 
thing 1 feel perfectly sure ; that the sentiments of antipathy, 
involving apparently a mixture of aversion and contempt, which 
are sometimes expressed for persons holding Calvinistic senti- 
ments, can only reflect disgrace on those who cherish them. — 
Many speak and write as if the admission of such doctrines 
were the result of predilection, and arose from some mafignity 
towards the great mass of mankind, inherent in the breast. 
Those who embrace them stand, by the very fact of having 
received them, (like the primitive Christians,) odio humani ge- 
neris conmcti. But nothing can be a greater violation of all 
justice than thus to treat men, who show the greatest benevo- 
lence and practical charity towards their fellow creatures : who, 
many of them, (like the subject of this work,) long stood 
out against the admission of the obnoxious tenets in question, 
and never admitted them till compelled to do so, contrary to 
all their apparent interests, by submission to what they at least 
conceived to be the paramount authority of God's word ; and 
who themselves have often felt more keenly, it is to be appre- 
hended, than those who most bitterly censure them ever did, 
the painful reflections which some of their principles appear 
calculated to excite. — But the fact is, many of the best and 



1821.] AND HABITS. 371 

greatest men of our own church, and of other establishments, 
through successive ages, have avowed the doctrines which are 
now made the ground of so much reproach ; and could many 
illustrious worthies, who in former times filled the highest dig- 
nities of our church with the greatest honour, now return upon 
earth, they must, according to certain modern regulations, 
(hitherto indeed but partially adopted,) be rejected even from 
the humblest curacies. 

But I forbear — and, quitting the general subject of my fa- 
ther's character, proceed to mention some of the habits of his 
life. 

It may be interesting to some persons to know his usual 
mode of spending his time, when exposed to no peculiar inter- 
ruptions. 

Unlike most men who have accomplished great things in 
life, he was never, till quite his latter years, an early riser. 
This, indeed, might be sufficiently accounted for, by the dis- 
turbed nights which he often passed, owing to his asthmatic 
complaint. He usually rose about seven, and retired to rest 
about eleven o'clock. But during some late years he rose fre- 
quently between fi've and six. At these times he often spent 
three hours alone in his study before breakfast. His seasons of 
private devotion were always, I believe, immediately after rising, 
and again from eight to nine o'clock in the evening. There 
were times also in which he had periods of retirement in the 
middle of the day : and occasionally he observed days of fasting 
and more special devotion. 

After breakfast, followed his family exposition and worship, 
which often occupied three quarters of an hour, or even still 
more time. He next, while he had missionaries or other pupils 
under his care, applied himself to their instruction : and then 
pursued his own studies till near the hour of dinner. His time 
for exercise and for making his pastoral visits was generally 
the afternoon. For some years his chief exercise was the cul- 
tivation of his garden : but latterly, from the necessity of a 
.recumbent posture, much of the time which he had been used 
to give to this employment was passed upon his bed. — After 
tea he was again occupied in his study till the hour for family 
worship arrived : after which a light supper, followed by a little 
conversation, closed the day. 

He was, as Mr. Wilson has observed, '^ always employed, but 
never in a hurry." His method of " gleaning," as he termed 
it, by always having a book at hand for spare portions of time, 
he himself has described and recommended in a letter which 
has been inserted. But he gleaned by conversation with all 



372 CHARACTER [CHAP. XVII* 

who came in his way, upon such subjects as they understood, 
as well as from books. He thought it of much advantage to a 
clergyman to understand common affairs, particularly those 
connected with the employments of his people. '' When 
they saw that he understood things belonging to their profes- 
sion, it would make them," he said, " give him credit for more 
competency to instruct them in what pertained to his own." — 
Indeed his active mind employed itself vigorously upon all sub- 
jects which came before it ; and particularly upon the passing 
events of the world, as they affected the interests of the Chris- 
tian church, or of his country, and the consequent duties of ; i 
himself, and his people. ' 

Till his spirits had been completely worn down by labours 
and infirmities, he possessed great cheerfulness and vivacity ; 
which especially displayed themselves in times of sickness. — 
He was a man of much conversation. All his studies and pur- 
suits were talked over with his family. He was indeed always 
and every where 5i5axTwoc:, ^^ apt to teach:"* we might even 
be ready to term him, as St. Paul was termed, (r-TrsffjuoXoyo^,! 
if that word may be taken, as our version appears to take it, 
for one who scatters his words, like seed, all around him. In 
confirmation of this, the scenes of the Margate packets may be 
recalled to mind. I will mention also another incident which 
recalled, though it may appear trivial, will illustrate my posi- 
tion, and his character. — In one of my journeys to Aston, I 
took with me, as nurse maid, a young woman of but slender ca- 
pacity, though I hope of good principles ; and it amused and 
interested me to learn that this poor girl, when charged with the 
care of a young child, could find no way of passing her time 
so agreeably, as in standing or walking about near my father, 
while he worked in his garden. He so explained to her his 
various operations, and the intended result of them, with ap- 
propriate observations, that her attention was quite engaged. 
And by means resembhng this, it was, that his domestics gra- 
dually acquired a degree of information, which made them ap- 
pear enlightened persons in comparison with what is generally 
found in that rank of life. And hence too it was, as well as for » 
the great spiritual benefit which most of them derived from his 
instructions, that, without contracting any disrespectful fa- 
miharity, they became attached to him in a very uncommon 
degree. 

in this connexion I may mention what has left a pleasing 
and affecting impression upon ray memory from my early days. 

^= 1 Tim. iii. 2. 2 Tim. ii. 24. t Actsxvii. 18. 



1821.] AND HABITS. 373 

His returns from visiting his late flock at Ravenstone, when he 
lived at Olney, were always interesting occasions, while he 
talked over with my mother all that he had observed in their 
stale. At these times, I suppose from sympathy with his 
hopes and fears, his joys and sorrows respecting them, it was 
very gratifying to me to stand by, a silent listener to the con- 
versation. 

In hke manner the peculiar piety, cheerfulness, and affec- 
tion which marked the discourse that took place on a Sunday 
evening, (notwithstanding the very discouraging circum- 
stances against which my father had to contend,) early made 
a strong impression upon my mind of the happiness of true re- 
ligion. 

Generally I may say, that my father was very strict about 
the observance of the sabbath in his family.. All domestic 
work, that could be anticipated, was done the evening before : 
and cooking on the Sunday was avoided, that the whole fami^ 
ly, if not otherwise prevented, might attend public worship. 
Yet, as may be collected from the fact just related, his piety 
was cheerful as well as strict. 

" Improv'd and soften'd by the day, 
All things another aspect wore." 

In one respect a deficiency may have been felt in these me- 
moirs — my father never, 1 believe, at least, never since a very- 
early period, wrote any private papers, relative to what passed 
in his own mind. Pious persons have differed in judgment up- 
on this practice. His judgment was not against it : but it was 
not his habit. Nor has he left any writings beyond what are 
now printed, which can be communicated to the public — unless 
it be additional letters in the hands of his friends. — At the same 
time that I make this remark, I may be permitted to observe, 
that he much deprecated the publication of such letters, unless, 
(what he apprehended might not be attainable,) they could be 
previously submitted to persons in whose judgment he could 
confide. He thought that the memory of many good men had 
been injured by such publications.^ — I confess it is v/ith some 
trepidation, as to what might have been his own judgment upoij 
the subject, that I now lay so much of his private correspondence 
before the public ; but all, I persuade myself, will feel that f 
have given them much that is truly valuable : and, under the 
sanction and authority which death has added to his charac^ 



* See his Practical Observations on Deuteronomy, xxsiv. 
32 



'«374 CHARACTER [CHAP. XVJjf. 

ter, he may now speak some things, publicly, which perhaps 
propriety or expediency required that he should before say only 
in private to his friends. If I have, in any important instance, 
exceeded that moderate license which this consideration would 
allow, there is nothing for which I should feel more unfeignecJ 
regret. 



I gladly avail myself of the permission to annex, to this re- 
view of my honoured father's character and manner of hfe, the 
testimony of two friends, the competency of whose judgment 
none will call in question, and who will be free from that sus- 
picion of undue partiality which must necessarily attach to my- 
self. 

The first of the following letters was addressed to me wheh 
I announced the event which had just taken place at Aston 
Sandfprd. 

^^ Golden Square, April 20, 1821. My dear sir. Th6 
mournful event, which you were pleased to communicate to me, 
excited less surprise than concern, as Mr. Webster had prepa- 
red me to expect an unfavourable termination of your pious and 
Excellent father's illness. Although his departure has been 
delayed to a good old age, and he was cut down as a shock of 
corn fully ripe; yet the loss of him must be painfully felt by 
all who had the advantage of knowing him, and who knew how 
to esteem and love him for his work's sake. The church is de- 
prived of an able and useful minister, who has long been a burn- 
ing, and a shining light in the midst of her ; his people have 
lost a faithful and laborious pastor, whose zeal, diligence, and 
serious concern for their eternal interests, will never be surpass- 
ed : his friends have lost a wise, upright, disinterested, and af- 
fectionate counsellor, on whose judgment and integrity they 
could always rely : and his family have lost all that can be 
comprised in a great, good, kind, and tender relative. His works 
will long live to praise him here, and, through the divine bless- 
ing, may be instrumental in adding to his felicity, and increas^- 
jng the glory with which the Redeemer has already crowned 
his aged and laborious servant. 

'' You, my dear sir, can better exemplify, than I can op- 
press the duties of faith and patience, and meek submission, 
which are required by this afflictive dispensation of the divine 
providence. May it please God to communicate that support 
and consolation, which will enable you to comfort those around 
you ! Above all, may you have grace to persevere in the path 



1321.] AND HABITS. 375 

by which your now blessed father has ascended into the man- 
sions of perfection and happiness, and abundantly supply the 
loss which the world has sustained, by receiving a double por- 
tion of his spirit ! 

^' The friends of my youth, and of my mature age, are now 
few in number ; and every year deprives me of some to whom 
I was tenderly united. Their departure warns me that my 
own is advancing rapidly upon me. Pray for me, my dear sir, 
that I may obtain mercy of the Lord in that day.— I am, my 
dear sir, with great respect and regard, truly and affectionately 
.yours, John Pearson. 

" The Rev, John Scott ,^ Aston Sandford^ 

The other excellent and distinguished friend of my father, 
when I informed him of the work in which I was^ngaged, most 
kindly proposed, of his own accord ^' publicly to declare the 
unfeigned respect he felt for him," which, he said, he should 
have ^'' real pleasure in doing :" and, when the occasion called 
for it, he favoured me with the following highly gratifying 
letter : 
/^Marden Park, 16th April, 1822.— My dear sir. It was 
t >with no httle pleasure, that I heard that you v. ere about to pub- 
lish an account of the life of your late excellent father, together 
with many of his letters. The life of a minister of the gospel 
is not, indeed, likely to abound in those incidents which might 
render it interesting to ordinary readers : but to those who read 
for moral improvement, or still more, with a view to Christian 
edification, the life of your late father cannot but be eminently 
attractive. The labours of his pen, blessed be God, have been 
so widely circulated as entirely to supersede the necessity of 
any other testimony to the superiority of his intellectual pow- 
ers, or to the soundness and extent of his rehgious wisdom.. 
To the still higher praise of having exhibited and illustrated in 
his life and conversation, the religious principles which he pro- 
fessed you would yourself bear abundant testimony. But the 
eulogium of a son may be not unreasonably suspected of par- 
tiahty : from that suspicion, my favourable testimony will be 
free. It is not much, however, that I am able to state : not, at 
least, so much as the general impression on my mind of your 
father's character had led me to anticipate. The uniform dis- 
charge of the most important duties, the daily exercise of the 
Christian t^mpars, though they justly secure respect and en- 
gage affection, supply, even to a biographer, little that is sub- 
stantive or specific ; yet, for the gratification of my own feel- 
ings, if not for the illustration, still less for the accrediting, of 



> ?6 CHARACTER [CHAP. XVU. 

his character, permit me to state the decisive judgment of his 
intellectual and moral qualities, which an acquaintance of five 
and thirty years' duration had enabled me to form. 

"It was in the winter of 1785-6, that the late Mr. Newton 
informed me, that the Rev. Mr. Scott, a clergyman of a very 
superior understanding and of eminent piety, more pecuharly 
remarkable for his thorough acquaintance with the holy Scrip- 
tures, was about to settle in London, having been appointed to 
the chaplaincy of the Lock Hospital. 

" This was a period of my life when it was peculiarly impor- 
tant to me habitually to attend the ministrations of a sound and 
faithful pastor, and I wiHingly assented to Mr. Newton's ear- 
nest recommendations of Mr. Scott. I soon found that he 
/fully equalled the strongest expectations that I had formed of 
/ him, and, from that time, for many years, I attended him regu- 
larly, for the most part accompanied by my dear friends, — both, 
alas ! now gone to a better world, — the Hon. Edward James 
Eliot, and Mr. Henry I'horntojn. We used to hear htrfl^ at the 
Lock in the morning ; Mr. Thornton and I often gladly follow- 
ing him, for the afternoon service, into the city, where he had 
the lectureship of Bread-street church. All objections arising 
from an unfavourable manner, were at once over-ruled by the 
strong sense, the extensive acquaintance with Scripture, the 
accurate knowledge of the human heart, and the vehement and 
powerful appeals to the conscience, with which all his sermons 
abounded in a greater degree than those of any other minister 
I ever attended. Indeed the substantial soHdity of his dis- 
courses made those of ordinary clergymen, though good and 
able men, appear comparatively somewhat superficial and de- 
fective in matter. His zeal, together with his labours, and in- 
defatigable energy, could not but be manifest to all who had 
ever so little knowledge of his life and character. But, through 
the medium of a friend who resided some time under his roof, 
I had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with his conduct, 
temper, and manners, in family life. These, I can truly de- 
clare, were such as to indicate his constant reference, both in 
his conduct and temper, to the very highest moral standard, 
and a mind singularly watchful against what he conceived to 
be his own besetting infirmities. In particular, I well remem- 
ber, that it was stated to me, that, if, in the course of the day, 
he had been betrayed into what he deemed an improper degree 
of warmth, with a measure of humility rarely to be found in 
any man, much less in one who could not but be conscious of 
his own superior powers, he would mention the circumstance^ 



1821.] AND HABITS. Ol i 

and implore forgiveness of his infirmity in the evening devo- 
tions of the family. 

'^ Were I required to specify the particular Christian princi- 
ples which shone most conspicuously in his character, I should 
mention his simphcity of intention, his disinterestedness, and 
his generous contempt of this world's wealth, in comparison 
with those heavenly treasures on which his heart was supreme- 
ly set. He conceived it to be peculiarly the duty of a Chris- 
tian minister to be a pattern of disinterestedness, and to ren- 
der it clear, that he was governed by higher motives than those 
of worldly gain or advancement. — It may be an illustration of 
this part of his character, that in opening his he^/t to a friend 
on the marriage of one of his children, he expressed his grati- 
fication that the lady had no fortune. — Neveg indeed, did I 
know any one in whom the grand governing principles of a 
true Christian appeared to rule more powerfully and habi- 
Irually. 

'^ It was with no little regret that a change of residence^ 
which took place on my marriage, rendered me a less constant 
attendant on Mr. Scott's ministry. But Mrs. VV. and I always 
congratulated ourselves when an opportunity of hearing him 
occurred. When your father quitted the neighbourhood of 
London, I was one of the many who deeply regretted his de- 
parture, though my concern was lessened by the hope that a 
country residence might prove serviceable to his health, and 
be the means of prolonging a life of almost unequalled useful- 
ness. I need not assure you that, the esteem and attachment 
J felt for him experiencing no diminution, I continued to take a 
deep interest in his well-being : and, though I heard with con- 
cern, that one for whom I felt so sincere a friendship, should 
suffer such a long continuance of severe bodily pain, yet 1 
could not but feel, that it was to the honour of this aged ser- 
vant of God, that, as when in the possession of his bodily 
strength, he had been enabled to exhibit a model of what a 
Christian minister sliould be, so that he had done it no less in 
his declining years, by the patience and humility with which he 
bore his bodily sufferings, and the diligence with which he never 
failed to improve every remaining bodily and mental faculty for 
the glory of God, and the edification of his fellow-creatures. 

'' Large, indeed, was the harvest he was allowed to gather 
in ; many are the works which have followed him ; and rich^ 
doubtless, will be his remuneration, on that day, when he shall 
hear the blessed address which I could for very, very few^ an- 
ticipate with equal confidence, Well done^ good and faithfilt 

32* 



37» SENTIMENTS [CHAP. XVII, 

servant^ enter thou into the joy of thy Lord ! — I remain with 
real esteem and regard, my dear sir, your faithful servant, 

W. WiLBERFORCE. 

" The Rev. John Scott.'' 

One more topic remains to be adverted to in this chapter, to 
which reference has been already made : it is my father's sen- 
timents concerning education. 

On this subject, he will himself have disappointed the hopes 
of many readers, by the closing sentence of his own narrative : 
apd I am sensible, that it will not be in my power to relieve 
the disappointment. At the same time, I would remind such 
persons how many valuable hints they may collect from various 
letters which have been laid before them ; and, hkewise, how 
great weight there is in the sentence referred to, when interpre- 
ted as he would understand it. ^^ The grand secret" of his suc- 
cess, he there says, ^^ appears to have been this, that I always 
sought, for my children as well as for myself, in the first 
PLACE, the kingdom of God and his righteousness.'' In his 
view, this would extend, not only to the instruction directly 
given, and the prayers offered on behalf of his family, but to 
his whole conduct respecting them ; to the spirit and behaviour 
habitually exhibited before them ; to the value practically and 
evidently set upon eternal, in preference to temporal, things ; 
and very particularly to the disposal of them in life — the places 
of instruction to which they should be sent, the families which 
they should visit, the connexions which they should form, 
and the openings which should be embraced or rejected for 
them. 

^^ Many of us," says Dr. Paley, ^' are brought up with this 
world set before us, and nothing else. Whatever promotes 
this world's prosperity is praised ; whatever hurts and obstructs 
and prejudices this world's prosperity is blamed : and there 
all praise and censure end. We see mankind about us in mo- 
lion and action ; but all these motions and actions directed to 
fvorldly objects. We hear their conversation ; but it is all 
the same way. And this is what we see and hear from the first. 
The views which are continually placed before our eyes regard 
this life alone and its interests. Can it then be wondered at, 
that an early worldly-mindedness is bred in our hearts., so 
strong as to shut out heavenly-mindedness entirely ?" All this 
strikingly illustrates, by contrast^ what my father meant in the 
above quoted sentence. How far the censure which it con- 
vevs bears upon the practice of many families in which reli- 
gious instruction is not neglected, those concerned must judge 
for themselves. ^^Itis seriously to be apprehended," my fe- 



1821. J ON EDUCATION. 379 

ther observes in one of his last publications relating to the state 
of the times, " that remissness in family religion, relaxation of 
domestic authority, and the adoption o( worldly maxims in the 
education and disposal of children, constitute a considerable 
part of the sins of the church in the present day, as distin- 
guished from the sins of the irreligious part of the nation." — 
Such was his judgment. What was his practice, the same dis- 
tinguished writer lately cited may be said to have described when 
he proceeds : '^ That religion, therefore, may not be quite ex- 
cluded and overborne, may not quite sink under these power- 
ful causes, every support ought to be given to it, which can be 
given by education, by instruction, and, above all, by the ex- 
ample of those to whom young persons look up, actmg with a 
view to a future life themselves." Or rather, his conduct is 
more adequately described by the nervous language of the in- 
spired apostle : ^^ We look not at the things which are seen, 
but at the things which are not seen ; for the things which are 
seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are etei- 
nal."^ 

The deficiencies, of which my father speaks, in the same 
closing sentence of his narrative, were mainly owing, I con- 
ceive, to the want of time for more particular instruction and 
superintendence, which was inseparable from the constant 
pressure of engagements under which he lived. 

But, though I avow my despair of satisfying the expectations 
of some friends on the subject of the present section, I have one 
document to lay before them, which I trust they will accept 
with indulgence, and read with interest. It is a memorial of 
a part of what passed at Aston, at our family meeting there, 
before mentioned,! in the year 1818, as preserved in a letter to 
an absent brother. It may be remembered, that one object 
then proposed was, that our revered head might deliver to us, 
perhaps for the last time, '^ such hints, especially on the ma- 
nagement of our famihes, as should occur to him, and as might 
tend, under the blessing of God, to make us in some degree 
such blessings, to our children, as, we trusted, he had been to 
us." Of these hints some will be found to correspond to each 
part of the sentence which introduced the present observations. 
— My memorandum is as follows : 

" My father then took up the subject which had been pro- 
posed to him, and the text named as an introduction to it. Gene- 
sis xviii. 9, expressing his sense of its vast importance, and 
that particularly as applied to us, in our situations, and with 

■^ 2 Cor. iv. IS. t See above p. 287, 



380 SENTBIENTS [CHA^. XVII. 

our families. I can give you but brief hints of what he said, 
but they may recall to your recollection his strain of thinking 
and speaking on such points. 

" He first used the most humble expressions concerning his 
sense of the insufficiency and imperfection of what he had done 
himself: that people asked him what were the rules, and 
schemes, and plans, which he had adopted and pursued ; but 
that really he had been always too much involved in his many 
engagements, to pursue any very regular scheme or system in 
the education of his children : and he ascribed the success, 
w^hich he hoped had attended him, to God's blessing on steady 
upright aims and intentions, rather than to the wisdom of his 
plans and the competency of his rules. 

'^ 1. One thing that he could look back upon with satisfac- 
tion, and which he would earnestly inculcate, was, that he had 
ever decidedly sought first the kingdom of God and his right- 
eousness for us as well as for himself ; and this not merely in 
his prayers, but in his instructions, and in disposing of us in 
life. He had been, he observed, most of his time poor ; and in 
London he could have found many opportunities of getting his 
children off his hands^ and even of putting them forward in 
the world; but he determined not to avail himself of them, but 
irather to keep his children under his own roof as long as he 
could. For his sons his heart had been set upon the ministry, 
— perhaps too fondly ; though, as we knew, it had always been 
his maxim, that, while he would rather see us faithful ministers 
of Christ than princes, yet he would rather we were shoe-blacks 
than clergymen in office but not in heart : and he had been un- 
willing to relinquisli the hope that we should answer his de- 
sires, for the sake of any more lucrative prospect that was pre- 
sented. 

'^ 2. He would enjoin. Whatever else you teach or omit to 
teach your children, fail not to teach tliem subjection ; and 
that to the mother, as well as to the father. This, he said, is 
as essential to their own welfare, temporal and eternal, as to that 
of the family, the church, and the state. Establishing authori- 
ty, (which is perfectly consistent with kindness and affection,) 
so that, from childhood, they shall not think of deliberately op- 
posing a parent's will, — ofhaving or doing what he disapproves ; 
this is the greatest safe-guard that can be placed about young 
persons. Subjection to authority is God's ordinance — essen- 
tial, in addition to all other considerations, to the belief and 
practice of religion. If it were true, that there were more 
pious women than men, he would ascribe it very much to this 
circumstance, that they are more habituated to restraint and 
subjection. 



1821.] ON EDUCATION. 38 1 

*^ Here I took the liberty of bearing, to the juvenile part of 
the company, my testimony to the great value and advantage 
of the disciplineimder which, particularly in this respect, we 
were brought up ; while I see among pupils, and in many reli- 
gious families, the prevalence, and the sad consequences of an 
opposite practice. There was no want of affection, on the one 
part, or of confidence, on the other, in my father's family : but 
there was an awe of parental authority : any thing, to which he 
could not freely consent, was out of the question with us ; at 
least it was so to a considerable degree. This is a preservative 
from a thousand sins, and follies, and miseries, to which those 
young persons who have an unsubdued will of their own are 
exposed. I heartily wish we may all, by God's blessing, suc- 
ceed in establishing the same system in our families. 

" 3. He enforced, as of great importance, the forming of 
habits of application. The idea of teaching every thing as 
play or entertainment, could it be realized, would sacrifice, he 
observed, the great moral benefits of education. The differ- 
ence between work and play should be felt ; and the proportion 
of the former to the latter gradually increased. The habit of 
application is of vastly greater importance than any particular 
branch of learning which is to be acquired by it. 

" I will here subjoin the remark of a wise man, Mr. Rich- 
ardson of York, who said, ^ It seemed to him, that the wide dif- 
ference existing among families brought up under the same reli- 
gious instruction, was, in a very main degree, to be traced to 
some being trained to industrious habits^ and some not.' 

" 4. To such of us as have pupils from wealthy families, it 
might, my father proceeded, be particularly important to point 
out what he has always wished to keep in our view, when we 
were young, that our children were not to consider themselves 
as on a footing with all, with whom they might associate. Many 
things might be proper for their companions, in the way of 
dress, expense, &C. which would be highly improper for them^ 
on account of their different situation and prospects in life. 
This, he observed, was ever to be kept in view by the families 
of ministers especially : and children should therefore be habi- 
tuated to the consideration from the first. 

'^ Connected with this, the subject of accepting invitations 
for our children, to pay visits to friends, deserved much atten- 
tion, and sometimes occasioned much difficulty. Such calls 
should be complied with sparingly, and with much care. Even 
where the families to which they might be invited, were unex- 
ceptionable in all other points than that of superior station or 
fortune, yet the different style of living would often be of itself 



382 SENTIMENTS [CHAP. XVXj. 

a sufficient objection, where the youthful mind was concerned. 
Wanting to be genteel frequently proved a great snare to fami- 
lies circumstanced as ours were, 

'^ 5. On the subject of teaching children religion^ he had in 
some degree altered his opinions. He had done too little, he 
was convinced, in the way of teaching us catechisms, prayers, 
and portions of Scripture by heart ; not only from the want of 
time, but from a fear, beyond what was warranted, of producing 
formality and he apprehended that there still prevailed an er- 
ror on this head, among many persons, agreeing with us in our 
general sentiments. Observation o^ facts had produced the 
change in his judgment. He had lived to see, to how good ac- 
count a pretty large measure of such instruction might be turn- 
ed ; particularly storing the mind with Scriptures for future use. 
He would have the memory, while tenacious, as in children, 
pre-occupied with such matter ; without, however, rendering it 
burdensome. 

^' He had not attempted a great deal in the way of talking 
directly to children, and drawing them forth to talk, upon reli- 
gious subjects ; but much, he trusted, by family worship, and 
the constant readins: and expounding of the Scriptures : much 
also, he hoped, by the conversation kept up in his family, and 
by the spirit of supreme regard to religion, which he had endea- 
voured to maintain. This he pressed upon our particular at- 
tention v/ith reference to our children. 

" To the effect of his general conversation I gave my testi- 
mony, by observing, that the knowledge, which I had found 
turn to most account in life, appeared to have been gathered 
up, gradually and imperceptibly, from what thus passed in his 
family. 

^' He urged the improvement of passing events, of occurren- 
ces relating to our own conduct and that of others, as the occa- 
sions of religious remark, illustrative of Scriptural truths — 
teaching young persons to take a religious and Christian view 
of whatever took place. 

^^ If surrounded by a young family, he said, his expositions 
^vould be somewhat varied from their present form ; they would 
be less full and minute, and, as far as he found it practicable, 
more suited to arrest and impress the youthful mind. — He 
would also make a point of havini>' evening prayer at such an 
hour, that the younger branches of the family, (from seven or 
eight years of age,) might be present, as well as in the morn- 
ing. — He much recommended extemporary prayers in the fa- 
mily, glancing at existing circumstances in preference to any 
fixed forms ; especially among young persons. 



1S2L] ON EBtrCATlON. 38v 

*^ 6. He pressed the importance of gaining the affections of 
our children ; drawing them to choose our company, to enter 
into our conversation, and to make us their confidants. 

'^ 7. He expresses his hope, that there might be little need 
to say to us, Let brotherly love continue ; but, said he, let eve- 
ry thing be done to train up your children also to union and 
cordiality ; let them be guarded, and taught themselves to 
guard, against whatever might violate it. There will be dif- 
ferent turns of mind : there will be occasions tending to excite 
jealousy, envy, and grudging ; but let the demon of discord be 
watched against, as the deadliest foe to a family. Respectabi- 
lity, happiness, usefulness, all depend on its exclusion. A three- 
fold cord is not easily broken ; but a divided house, cometh to 
desolation. 

'•^ My father concluded with praying for all present, and foi' 
all those belonging to us who were absent ; for us and our chil- 
dren after us, and our children's children, to future generations^ 
if there should be such : that rehgion might not decline, and 
become extinct among us, but that all might prove (like Abra- 
ham, who had furnished our text,) blessed ourselves, and bless- 
ings to others. 

^' After the prayer, I took his opinion on the subject of in- 
troducing young persons to the sacrament of the Lord's supper ^ 
which I was the more desirous to do, from knowing his senti- 
ment, that it is an ordinance for the edification of believers, not 
for the conversion of sinners. I observed, that I trusted we 
had seen good effects result, in many instances, from encoura- 
ging young persons to come, w^ho appeared hopeful and promi- 
sing ; who showed feeling, and an apparent desire of religious 
improvement ; though we could not arrive at a decisive judg- 
ment concerning their piety. He fully acquiesced in this, and 
expressed his approbation of inviting the attendance of such 
persons, wnth proper explanations, and when it meets their 
own desire. He thought it often proved a decided event with 
them, and the means of fixing them. — The distinction was mark- 
ed between such an approach to the Lord's table, and persons 
coming merely because they have attained a certain age, and 
have been confirmed : as likewise between coming in order to 
establish a satisfaction with what they are, and using it as a 
means of being made what they should 6e." 

A striking amplification of some parts of the preceding pa- 
per may be found in a note of my father's on a passage in the 
Pilgrim's Progress, where Demas, who '^ loved this present 
world," is introduced with the e^^iihei gentlemanlike ^.H^oh^i 
to his name. After some excellent remarks on the effects f^rl- 



384 SENTIMENTS [CHAP. XVII. 

sing from the affectation of gentility in persons in trade, he thus 
proceeds : ^^ but none are in this respect so much exposed as 
ministers, and their families, when having no private fortune ; 
they are situated among the affluent and genteel ; and, by yield- 
ing to the temptation, they are often incapacitated from paying 
their debts with punctuality ; they are induced to degrade their 
office by stooping to unsuitable methods of extricating them- 
selves out of difficulties, from which strict frugahty would have 
preserved them, and by laying themselves under obligations to 
such men as are capable of abusing this purchased superiori- 
ty : and, above all, they are generally led to place their chil- 
dren in situations and connexions highly unfavourable to the 
interests of their souls, in order to procure them a genteel pro- 
vision. If we form our judgment on this subject from the holy 
Scripture, we shall not think of finding the true ministers of 
Christ among the higher classes in the community, in matters 
of external appearance or indulgence. That information and 
learning, which many of them have the opportunity of acqui- 
ring, may render them acceptable company to the affluent, es- 
pecially to such as love them for their work's sake ; and even 
the exercise of Christian tempers will improve the urbanity ac- 
quired by a liberal education, where faithfulness is not con- 
cerned. But if a minister thinks, that the attention of the great 
or noble requires him to copy their expensive style of living, 
he grievously mistakes the matter. For this will generally forfeit 
the opinion before entertained of his good sense and regard to 
propriety : and his official declarations concerning the vanity of 
earthly things, and the Christian's indifference to them, will be 
suspected of insincerity, while it is observed that he conforms 
to the world, as far or even farther than his circumstances will 
admit : and thus respect will often be changed into disgust. 
Nay, indeed, the superior orders in society do not choose to be 
too closely copied, in those things which they deem their ex- 
clusive privileges ; especially by one who, (they must think,) 
secretly depends on them to defray the expense of the intrusive 
competition. The consistent minister of Christ will certainly 
desire to avoid every thing mean and sordid, and to retrench 
'in every other way rather than exhibit the appearance of penu- 
ry : but, provided he and his family can maintain a decent sim- 
plicity, and the credit of punctuality in his payments, he will 
not think of aspiring any higher. If in order to do this, h^ 
be compelled to exercise considerable self-denial, he will think 
little of it, while he looks more to Jesus and his apostles than 
to the few of a superior rank who profess the gospel : and 
could he afford something genteel and fashionable, he w^ould 



1821.] ON EDUCATION. 385 

deem it more desirable to devote a larger portion to pious and 
charitable uses, than to squander it in vain affectation." 

In addition to the observations here detailed, the reader may 
be referred for a farther explanation of my father's views on 
education to the twenty-first of his Essays, which treats of the 
relative duties. 

On the subject of ^' establishing authority," (which was to 
be accomphshed early,) he used to observe that it generally 
cost him a sharp contest, sometimes more tlian one ; but that, 
when it was once settled who was master, the parent and not 
the child, the path was ever after comparatively smooth and 
easy. 

On correction, he was decided as to its propriety and neces- 
sity, as the appointment of God. At the same time, he thought 
it need, by no means, be frequent, if it were properly adminis- 
tered. He would not have it applied for small faults ; for what 
resulted from childish levity and inconsideration ; but only for 
what was wilful, rebellious, or immoral. '' A child," he ob- 
served, '^ was to be punished, not for being a child^ but for be- 
ing a wicked child." Of course, he taught that chastisement 
was to be applied coolly, and with deliberation, to fulfil a duty 
painful to our feelings, not for their gratification. 

It was a rule with him, that, from the time children became 
capable of making their wants known in any other way, they 
were to obtain nothing by crying for it, or by any other mis- 
conduct. The contrary practice, he said, was bribing them to 
behave ill. 

He much lamented to see parents so often inverting the pro- 
per cour'se to be pursued, leaving their children almost without 
restraint when young, and then attempting to impose too se- 
vere restrictions upon them when grown up. Each error was 
highly pernicious ; the combination of the two, of most ruinous 
consequence. 

A lady, who was for a considerable time resident in his house, 
and who has very successfully brought up her family by rules 
principally derived from him, mentions in a letter, two circum- 
stances which particularly struck her in his management : one 
was his " never resenting misconduct in any way when the con- 
test was over. I used to admire," she says, " his being so 
soon kind again to the offender. This I judge to be important, 
though it may seem trivial." The other was, '^ his plan of 
letting his authority go by imperceptible degrees, as his chil- 
dren grew up. In this," she remarks, ^^ he excelled, I am 
ready to say, even his management in childhood : and the ob- 
servation of many unhappy cases, arising from a contrary course 

33 



3S6 HIS WORKS. [chap. xvm. 

has convinced me of its great importance. He would have 
been a wise father, even had he not been a religious one ; just 
views were so obvious to his wise mind. I think the dissatis- 
faction which you tell me he expresses in the close of his 
narrative, arose from his not having had great opportunity of 
comparing his plan with those of others, and of observing how 
miserably many children have been brought up. There is, 
however, a great improvement, at least in my circle. I take 
the opportunity of speaking of him in every company into which 
I go, when there is a young mother present." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



HIS WORKS — HIS THEOLOGY — CONCLUSION. 

" The characteristic excellency of his writings," Mr. Wilsoi? 
says, ^' is a calm, argumentative, determined tone of scriptural 
truth ; a clear separation of one set of principles from another ; 
a detection of plausible errors ; an exhibition, in short, of a 
sound, comprehensive, adequate view of Christianity ; such 
as goes to form the really solid divine. His motto may be con- 
ceived to have been, Knowing that I am set for the defence of 
the gospel,'''' 

1. On my father's first work, the Force of Truth, and on his 
principal work, the Commentary on the Scriptures, Mr. Wil- 
son has spoken with sufficient copiousness in what has been al- 
ready inserted from his sermons. 

I may be allowed, however, to remark it, as showing a very 
different state of feeling upon such subjects from that which 
now exists, that a narrative so striking in itself as the Force of 
Truth exhibits, and one so strongly tending to support what, 
amid unceasing obloquy and opposition, are contended for as 
the great doctrines of the Reformation, and of the Holy Scrip- 
tures, should for a long time, have attracted so little attention. 
Ten years it has been seen, passed before a thousand copies 
were sold. Yet, several years before that period had elapsed, 
it had been translated into a foreign language, and published on 
the Continent. 

I subjoin a well-known instance of the effect of the work on 
a character which has much interested the public mind. '^ About 
this time, Mr. Pigott, the curate of St. Mary's, Nottingham, 
hearing what was the bent of his, (Henry Kirk White's,) reli- 



CHAP. XVIII.] niS WORKS. 387 

gious opinions," namely, inclining towards Deism,' "sent 
him, by a friend, Scott's Force of Truth, and requested him to 
peruse it attentively ; which he promised to do. Having look- 
ed at the book, he told the person who brought it to him, that 
he could soon write an answer to it ; but about a fortnight 
afterward, when this friend inquired how far he had proceed- 
ed in his answer to Mr. Scott, Henry's reply was in a very dif- 
ferent tone and temper. He said, that to answer that book 
was out of his power, and out of any man's, for it was found- 
ed upon eternal truth ; that it had convinced him of his error : 
and that so thoroughly was he impressed with a sense of the 
importance of his Maker's favour, that he would wilhngly give 
up all acquisitions of knowledge, and all hopes of fame, and 
live in a wilderness, unknown, till death, so he could ensure an 
inheritance in heaven. — A new pursuit thus opened to him, and 
he engaged in it with his w^onted ardour."* 

To what Mr. Wilson has said concerning the Commentary, 
I would annex the opinion expressed by the late Rev. Andrew 
Fuller — '' I believe it exhibits more of the mind of the Spirit 
in the Scriptures, than any other work of the kind extant :" and 
the following testimony of the author of the " Introduction to 
the Critical Study and Knowledge of the Holy Scriptures." 
Having quoted Mr. Wilson's account of the work, Mr. Horn 
adds : *' To the preceding just character of this elaborate Com- 
mentary, the writer of these pages, (who does not view all to- 
pics precisely in the same point of view with its late learned 
author,) deems it an act of bare justice to state, that he has ne- 
ver consulted it in vain on difficult passages of the Scriptures. 
While occupied in considering the various objections of modern 
infidels, he, for his own satisfaction, thought out every answer, 
(if he may be allowed the expression,) for himself, referring 
only to commentaries in questions of more than ordinary diffi- 
culty : and, in every instance, — especially on the Pentateuch, 
— he found in Mr. Scotfs Commentary brief but solid refuta- 
tions of alleged contradictions^ which he could find m no other 
similar work extant in the English language^ 

The only observation, which I shall myself make, relates to 
the leading principle of interpretation adopted in the work, 
which appears to be of this kind : that every passage of Scrip- 
ture has its real, literal, and distinct meanings which it is the 
first duty of a commentator, whether from the pulpit or the 
press, to trace out and explain ; whatever application he may 
think fit subsequently to make of it : and that, speaking of the 

^ Southey's Life and Remains of H. K. White. 



388 HIS WORKS. [chap. xvin. 

Scriptures generally, the spiritual meaning is no other than this 
real meaning, the actual intention of the passage, with its fair 
legitimate application to ourselves. The author looked, 
therefore, with a very jealous eye upon the whole scheme of ac- 
commodation so much in favour with many persons, which 
takes a passage often without even a reference to its connexion 
and real purport, and applies it to somewhat to which it has no 
actual relation, and, perhaps, does not even bear any analogy. 
— A few extracts from my father's writings will best illustrate 
his views. 

In the preface to his Commentary, he briefly notices the sub- 
ject in explaining the plan upon which his own work proceeds, 
and the reasons that led to its adoption. But the fullest ex- 
planation of his sentiments is to be found in two papers in his 
collected '-'- Works." The first was published in the Theo- 
logical Miscellany, for 1783, in reply to a query concerning 
the passage, Eccles. ix. 13 — 15, which describes '^ a certain 
poor man, who, by his wisdom, dehvered his city," but was 
•' no more remembered" by the citizens. Some persons have 
had the fancy of applying this to our redemption by Christ, 
and our returns for the benefit. On this, he says : " In ex- 
plaining the word of God, we should remember, that there is 
in every portion, one precise meaning, previously to our em- 
ploying our ingenuity upon it, which it is our business, with re- 
verent attention, to investigate. To discover that meaning, we 
should soberly and carefully examine the context, and consider 
the portion in question, in the relation in which it stands." 

Then, having pointed out the useful practical lessons sug- 
gested by the plain meaning of the story, he proceeds : '^ I 
would gladly know, by what authority any man, overlooking 
these plain and useful instructions, by the help of a warm ima- 
gination, sets himself to find gospel mysteries in this passage ? 
It would puzzle the most ingenious of these fanciful expo- 
sitors fairly to accommodate the circumstances of the story to 
the work of redemption. Two purposes, indeed, such as they 
are, may be answered by such interpretation : 1. Loose pro- 
fessors are encouraged in their vain confidence, by hearing that 
none of the redeemed are more mindful of, or thankful to, 
their Saviour than themselves. ... 2. It is a powerful engine 
in the hands of vain-glorious men, by which to catch the atten- 
tion, and excite the admiration of injudicious multitudes, who 
ignorantly admire the sagacity of the man that finds deep mys- 
teries, where their more sober pastors perceived nothing but 
unrelishing practical instruction. ... I have heard many sensi- 
ble and pious persons lament this sort of explication of Scrip- 



<;HAP. XVIII.] HIS WORKS. 389 

ture, as an evil of the first magnitude : and I am more and 
more convinced it is so. At this rate, you may prove any doc- 
trine from any text : . . . every thing is reduced to uncertainty, 
as if the Scripture had no determinate meaning, till one was ar- 
bitrarily imposed by the imagination of man : . . . . the most 
important doctrines of the gospel seem to lose their beauty and 
glory, along with their simpHcity, in the midst of such useless 
encumbrance : and the most conclusive arguments lose their ef- 
fect, and become suspected by the company which they keep : 
and, whilst the sophistical proof is detected, the opposer is em- 
boldened to treat the rest as equally capable of refutation. . . . 
''• However men may admire the sagacity of these expositors, 
it certainly shows a very lamentable state of the organs of sight, 
when a man can see nothing obvious, useful, real, and capable 
of being pointed out to others for their benefit ; but, bUnd to 
these things, sees every thing through a different medium than 
others, and in such a manner as can furnish only amusement 
instead of information. It is very improperly called spiritually 
explaining the Scripture. The spiritual meaning, is the meaning 
of the Spirit of God, which is generally simple, and obvious to 
the humble inquirer. Opposite to this is the fanciful mean- 
ing, which always appears forced and unnatural to sober minds ; 
diverse and opposite to men of opposite parties and lively ima- 
ginations ; and only excites admiration by being surprising and 
unexpected. . . . Thus the parable of the good Samaritan is evi- 
dently intended to explain and enforce the great commandment 
of loving our neighbours as ourselves, by showing, in a lively 
example, how every personal and party consideration is to be 
overlooked ; and safety, ease, interest, and indulgence, hazarded 
or renouiiced, to rescue a fellow-creature, though an enemy or 
stranger, m the hour of distress. Christ, indeed, having, in his 
lite and death, perfectly fulfilled this law, and far exceeded all 
that can possibly be required of any other person, because of 
his pecuhar character, circumstances, and suretyship engage- 
ments, hath inexpressibly outdone the good Samaritan. But 
€ven this is accommodation ; and the practical inference, Go 
thou and do likewise^ demands our peculiar attention. But 
now, if ingenuity and imagination are employed to bend every 
circumstance of this parable to the situation of fallen man, and 
the love of Christ ; and this is given as the primary, or only 
meaning, whilst the practical instruction is kept back ; the 
reader or hearer may be amused or disgusted, as he favours or 
dislikes the doctrines of grace ; but, whatever edification he 
may receive, he has not that which our Lord principally intended 
])y the parable." 

33^ 



390 HIS WOBKS. [chap. XVlll. 

The other document, which conveys his sentiments on the 
subject before us^ is a letter to a highly esteemed brother cler- 
gyman, who consulted him concerning the publication of a ser- 
mon on the signs and duties of the times, in the year 1799* 
from the text, Nahum ii. 1. He writes as follows : 

'^ If I had not considered you in a very different light, from 
that in which I do some preachers, in whose sermons imagina- 
tion and accommodation predominate, I should have evaded 
the question, or declined giving an answer. . . . Your sermons 
always have a good tendency ; as such, I must give my appro- 
bation, leaving every man to his own method of attaining his 
object ; though I may think that method is not the best of 

which he is capable When you take a plain text, full of 

matter, and, from the real meaning of the text, raise doctrines, 
draw conclusions, explain, illustrate, and apply the subject, 
there is great weight in your manner of preaching ; which the 
fertility of your invention, and liveliness of imagination, kept 
in due bounds, render more interesting to the many^ without 
giving just ground of umbrage to \hefew. But, it appears to 
me and to others, that you frequently choose texts suited to 
give scope to the fancy, — which is constituted the interpreter, 
instead of the judgment : and that you thus discover allusions, 
and deduce doctrines and instructions, true and good in them- 
selves, but by no means contained in the text, nor indeed, easi- 
ly made out in the way of accommodation. In this case, your 
H)wn vigour is principally exerted in the exercise of the imagi- 
nation ; and, while many hearers are surprised, amused, and 
delighted, their understandings, consciences, and hearts are not 
addressed or affected by any means, in so powerful a manner 
as by a plainer subject. 

" What St. Peter says of prophecy, that it is not of private 
interpretation^ is true of every part of Scripture : the Holy 
Spirit had, in every part, one grand meaning, and conveys one 
leading instruction ; though others may, by fair inference, sub- 
ordinately be deduced. This is the real spiritual meanings 
which we should first of all endeavour to discover, as the founda- 
tion of all our reasonings and persuasions. We should open, al- 
lege, argue, enforce, and apply, from this mind of tJie Spirit in 
Scripture ; nor is any passage fit for a text, properly speaking, 
which does not admit of such an improvement of it, in its real 
meaning. But that which you seem to call the ' spiritual mean- 
ing,' is frequently no more than a new meaning put upon it by 
a lively fancy. — Typical subjects, indeed, have a spiritual mean- 
mg ; and in another sense, under the literal meaning ; be- 
ing intended by the Holy Spirit, to shadow forth spirit- 
p.al blessings under external signs ; and some prophetical vi- 



CHAP. XVm.] HIS WORKS. 391 

sions are enigmatical, and the spiritual meaning is the unrid- 
dling of the enigma.' — Parables, and such parts of Scripture as 
the Canticles, are of the same nature. But, in all, the judg- 
ment should be the expositor, not the fancy ; and we should 
inquire what the Holy Spirit meant, not what we can make of it. 
But there are many Scriptures that have no other meaning, than 
the literal ; and which are to be improved, not by finding out a 
new meaning, and calling it spiritual^ but by trying what useful 
instruction we can deduce from the plain sense of the passage." 
He then applies these principles to the particular passage in 
question. But for that application, the reader must be referred 
to the paper itself. — He concludes, '' My dear sir, I am so deep- 
ly convinced, that this way of accommodation is capable of 
very dangerous abuses, and has been so abused to very bad 
purposes, by those, who make divisions and deceive souls, that 
I grieve when any person of real piety and respectability gives 
countenance to it ; and I have so high an opinion of your integ- 
rity, benevolence, desire of glorifying God, and of doing good, 
and of your talents likewise, if properly exerted, that I have 
long wished to discuss the subject with you." 

H. Next to the " Force of Truth," one of his earliest pub- 
lications was the '' Discourse on Repentance:" and this may 
be considered as the first of a series of Theological Treatises, 
including '-^ The Warrant and Nature of Faith," the '-'- Treatises 
on Growth in Grace," the '-'- Sermon on Election and Final 
Perseverance," the " Essays on the most Important Subjects in 
Religion :" to which we may add the volume of '^ Sermons on 
Select Subjects," the '' Four Sermons," and the " Notes on the 
Pilgrim's Progress." 

The first of these works is a most serious, affectionate, and 
impressive address on a subject which appeared to the author, 
at the period of the publication, to be peculiarly neglected, and 
which he thought was seldom so much insisted upon as it ought 
to be. The instances, in which the work is known to have 
been productive of the happiest effects, are numerous. Though 
a plain, practical composition, it exhibits much of that which 
distinguished the writer's views of Christianity. He insists 
strongly on the immutable obligation of the divine law, its 
equity as well as purity, and the inexcusableness of transgres- 
sion, notwithstanding the fallen state of human nature : marks 
the connexion of repentance with faith, with forgiveness of sin, 
and with every part of religion — exposing the unsoundness of 
that religion in which it does not bear even a prominent place ; 
and distinguishes between faith and personal assurance in the 
same manney as he alwavs continued to do. — Of the strictness- 



392 HIS WORKS. [chap, xviil 

of his practical system, the reader may judge by what he has 
said, in speaking of the nature of repentance, on the subjects of 
restitution ; dealing in smuggled or contraband goods ; and the 
case of bankrupts. 

The occasion of the " Warrant and Nature of Faith" lias 
already been in some measure explained. In that work the 
author may be said to attempt to hold the balance between cer- 
tain excellent men at home — Marshall, Hervey, Romaine — in 
whose sentiments concerning faith and assurance, and some 
other points, he could not concur : and the New-England di- 
vines — particularly Edwards and Bellamy — whom he held in 
high estimation, but who, he thought, had raised a prejudice 
against their own writings by pushing some things too far, and 
thus '•' throwing impediments in the sinner's path, when endea- 
vouring with trembhng steps to come to the gracious Saviour," 
^^ and condemning many as self-deceivers, whom God would 
own as real, though weak believers." 

The work consists of two parts : one of which maintains, 
that the word of God, independently of any personal qnalifica- 
tions, is the sinner's only and sufficient warranty or authority 
for exercising faith in Christ ; and assigns reasons for insisting 
on this position : the other asserts the holy nature of true faith 
in all cases, and that it is the effect of regeneration ; and alleges 
distinct reasons for insisting upon these positions as well as the 
other. In speaking of the nature of faith, the author is careful 
to impress the sentiment, that it always connects with a humble 
earnest application to the diyine Redeemer for salvation ; which 
he does in order to distinguish it from a mere inert 7*eliance. 
with which he apprehends many deceive themselves. He also 
discriminates between faith and personal assurance of acceptance 
with God, which he ^^ not only grants, but strenuously main- 
tains, that no one is warranted" to cherish, '^ except as he has 
clear proof that he is in Christ a new creature : and has cruci- 
Jied the flesh with its affections and lusts, ^"^ 

Much of the book is employed in establishing what, to a 
mind not corrupted from Scriptural simplicity by speculation or 
controversy, might not seem to require proof: but the general 
result will be found very important : of which, I think, the 
pious reader may be fully convinced, by turning, previously to 
his perusal of the whole, to the introductory and the concluding 
pages. 

The small " Treatise on Growth in Grace" has been a fa- 
vourite with some of its author's most distinguished friends. In 
this work, the origin and progress of " the love of God" in the 
human heart are well traced ; a comprehensive account is given 
of Christian love, in general ; and the question of Christians 



CHAP. XVni.] KIS WOKKS. 395 

'^ leaving their first love" is discussed. Christian zeal is also 
considered, and the notion of love (instead of the law of God) 
being our rule : and the temper and character of the ripe and 
mature Christian are admirably dehneated. This tract, it will 
be remembered, was composed for the benefit of the beloved 
people whom the author had recently left at Ravenstone, and 
in the neighbourhood of Olney. 

Of it, perhaps, in particular, it may be remarked, what ap- 
pears to me true of his writings in general, that, while they care- 
fully avoid certain extremes which have been countenanced by 
some good men of a different school, they present the pecuUar 
excellencies of the New-England divines, relieved from a cer~ 
tain forbidding aspect to which their writings wore to the inexpe- 
rienced reader. 

The '•• Sermon on Election and Final Perseverance," is of a 
very moderate and practical cast. Had these doctrines beeu 
always exhibited in the manner here exemplified, prejudice 
must have been much abated, and many arguments employed 
against them must have been felt to be irrelevant. The author 
expressly undertakes to show that they are consistent with ex- 
hortatory and practical preaching, and conducive to holiness 
of life." Difl^erent opinions will be formed of his success in 
this undertaking : one thing, however, is most evident, that, 
in assenting to what he deemed to be one part of scriptural truth, 
it never entered into his plan to give up another part, c)r in the 
least degree to throw it into shade. — What may appear to some 
a peculiarity of the sermon, though that must be ill entitled to 
such a name, which is common to almost all Calvinistic church- 
men, to many dissenters, and to the principal American divines, 
is its maintaining, in connexion with its other doctrines, that 
of Christ's having died for all men, or, in other words, of gene- 
ral, or universal redemption. It may deserve also to be re- 
marked, that the author adduces in this discourse, as most 
exactly expressive of his sentiments upon this subject, a part of 
the Church Catechism, which the present Bishop of Winches- 
ter, several years afterward, brought forward in one of those 
charges which formed the ground-work of his ^' Refutation of 
Calvinism," as decisive proof that the Church of England re- 
jected the doctrines in support of which the sermon is written. 
The part of the catechism referred to, is that which affirms that 
God the Son ^^ redeemeth all mankind," and that God the Holy 
Ghost '^sanctified all the elect people of God :" placing the 
limitation not on redemption, but on sanctification ; or, as 
some have expressed it, not upon the impetration^ but upon the 
application of redemption. 



394 HIS WORKS. [chap, xviir. 

Before we quit this publication, I would observe that, firmly 
as the author held the doctrines of personal election and final 
perseverance, he continued to the end of life, as he had done in 
his ^' Force of Truth," to place these tenets in a very different 
rank from those of human depravity, justification by faith, and 
regfeneration and sanctification by the Holy Spirit. The latter, 
and not the former, whatever any may choose to impute to him, 
constituted the substance of his divinity and of his teaching ; 
as they do of those of the clergy with whom he is usually class- 
ed. We have found this as strongly stated in his private cor- 
respondence as it can be in any public documents either of his. 
or of those who, from their avowing less Calvinism than he did, 
are represented as being less honest. We have seen him not 
only adopting Mr. Newton'ssentinients that, though Calvinistic 
principles were to diffuse an influence over all our instructions, 
they were, generally speaking, to be found no where in the lump ;* 
but also writing to a friend, If you find any thing too Calvin- 
istic for you in my works ^' you must skip i7;"t find even say- 
ing of Mr. Wilberforce's book, '•'' It is not Calvinistic— perhaps 
it is so much the better :"J — that is, it may the better answer 
the purposes for which it was written. And, at the close of 
this very " Sermon on Election and Perseverance," he thus 
declares his sentiments concerning bringing these doctrines 
forward in the pulpit : * 

'^ And now in applying the subject I would observe that, 
while numbers argue with the greatest vehemence against the 
points in question, and groundlessly charge them with implying 
the most dishonourable thoughts of God, and tending to the 
most pernicious consequences ; others are ready to say in ex- 
travagant zeal, to any one of greater moderation, '- If you real- 
ly beheve these doctrines, why do you preach them so sparingly, 
cautiously, and practically V I would desire such a man careful- 
ly to study even St. Paul's Epistles, and to answer the objec- 
tion himself Perhaps he may find that there is not a less pro- 
portion on such subjects in our sermons and publications, than 
in his writings ; and that he as carefully guards them from 
abuse, and connects them as much with holy practice, as we 
can do. We generally meet with a few verses in an Epistle 
upon the doctrines in question ; a nmch larger proportion upon 
the person, love, and sufl^erings of Christ, and on faith in him ; 
and whole chapters upon a holy life and conversation : and, if 
we do not, in the same manner, proportion, guard, and con-^ 
nect them, hypocrites will abuse them, infidels will depise 
them, and the weak will be stumbled. Indeed they are 

^ Above p. 272. f Above p. 275. | Above p. 214, 



CHAP. xvin.J nis works. 395 

not at all proper subjects to insist on, when we preach to sin- 
ners, to prejudiced hearers, or newly-awakened persons ; and 
are seldom if ever found in Scripture explicitly thus addressed : 
yet a great part of our more public ministry is exercised among 
such persons. Let it not then be thought carnal policy to 
adapt our discourses to the occasions and wants of the hearers, 
while nothing inconsistent with truth is spoken, nothing profit- 
able kept back. Our Lord himself says, / have yet many 
tilings to say unto you^ hut ye cannot hear them now : and Paul 
writes to some who were prone to be wise in their own conceits 
— / could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, hut as unto car- 
nal, I have fed you with milk, and not with meat ^ for hitherto 
ye were not able to hear it ; neither yet are ye now able : and he 
gives a reason for his conduct, which proves that many in most 
congregations are not able, namely, the prevalence of strife and 
contention among them." 

The volume of '^ Essays" is too well known to need any 
extended remarks. The author himself speaks of it as con- 
taining " a compendious system of the Christian religion, ac- 
cording to his views of it :" and Mr. Wilson describes it as 
*^ incomparable for the plain exposition of truth." It is close, 
and full of thought, perspicuously and forcibly expressed ; and 
perhaps no where, within the same compass, can the reader be 
referred to more copious, sound, and important religious in- 
struction. I would point out particularly the second Essay, 
on the Importance of Revealed Truth, and on the reception of 
it upon the authority of Him who has revealed it ; the third, on 
the Scriptural Character of God ; the fifteenth, on the Uses of 
the Moral Law in subserviency to the Gospel ; the eighteenth, 
on the Disposition and Character of the True believer ; the 
twentieth and twenty-first, on Relative Duties ; and the twen- 
ty-third, on the Improvement of Talents; as characteristic, 
and peculiarly valuable. — One delightful instance of the useful- 
ness of this work, in the case of a literary and philosophic cha- 
racter, who was by its means reclaimed from skeptical princi- 
ples, and established in the practical and effectual faith of the 
gospel, has, since the author's death, been announced to the 
world in the brief memoir of Thomas Bateman, M. D.* But 
this is only one among many proofs of the happy effects of his 
writings. 

In speaking of his '^ Volume of Sermons," and of his " Four 
Sermons," which may be connected with them, I shall not pre- 



* Christian Observer for November, 1821 . 



396 HIS WORKS. [chap, xviii. 

sume to enter into any examination of his pulpit composition^ || 
The subject has already been touched upon both by Mr. Wilf I 
son, and in the letter which I had so much pleasure in insert- 
ing at the close of his '' character." He is allowed to have 
been defective in style and manner, and in some other quali- 
ties, which might have rendered his discourses more attractive, 
both to the hearer and the reader ; but it would not be easy 
to point out a preacher whose sermons carried in them great- 
er weight of matter, or who more excelled in '^ rightly dividing 
the word of truth," giving to every character " his portion in 
due season." I confess it always appeared to me, that, while 
he was the strictest and most practical preacher I could hear, 
he was also the most consolatory ; because he not only pointed 
out where comfort was to be had, but what was the legitimate 
mode of appropriating it. By always describing the charac- 
ter for whom it was designed, and that with great condescen- 
sion to the feelings of the humblest upright Christian, he ena- 
bled those to whom consolation belonged to perceive their in- 
terest in it. 

The design of bis volume of Sermons was thus explained by 
himself, in a preface not retained in the later editions : " To 
show the absolute necessity of evangelical principles in order 
to holy practice, and their never-failing efficacy in sanctifying 
the heart, when cordially received, and to exhibit, according 
to the best of the author's ability, the nature and effects of ge- 
nuine Christianity, as distinguished from every species of false 
religion, without going far out of his way to combat any of 
them ; is the especial design of this publication. But he has, 
at the same time endeavoured to explain, establish, and enforce 
his views of the gospel in that manner which was deemed most 
likely to inform the mind, and affect the heart, of the attentive 
and teachable reader." 

In commenting on '' The Pilgrim's Progress," he has not 
only illustrated more fully and distinctly, than had ever before 
been done, the various scenes and characters of that ingenious 
and most instructive allegory ; but has found ample scope for 
unfolding and enforcing those views of rehgion for which he 
always pleaded, and in which he appears to have entirely coin- 
cided with his author. In his preface, and in the Life of 
Bunyan, he thus speaks of the original work : " The accurate 
observer of the church in his own days, and the learned student 
of ecclesiastical history, must be equally surprised to find, that 
hardly one remarkable character, good or bad, or mixed in any 
manner or proportion imaginable, or one fatal delusion, by-path, 
or injurious mistake, can be singled out, which may not be pa- 



j CHAP. XVIII.] HIS WORKS. 397 

ralleled, as to the grand outlines, in the Pilgrim's Progress.'^ 
Yet " the author was only thirty-two years of age when he was 
imprisoned ; (in which situation he wrote this work :) he had 
spent his youth in the most disadvantageous manner imagina- 
ble ; and he had been no more than five years a member of the 
church at Bedford, and less time a preacher of the gospel ;" 
and during part, at least, of his tedious imprisonment of twelve 
years, he had '-^ no books, except a Bible, and Fox's Martyro- 
logy." — One specimen of the notes has already appeared in 
this work. 

III. Occasional sermons. 

Of these, seven are funeral sermons, on Dr. Conyers, Mr. 
Thornton, the Rev. Messrs. Newell, Pentycross, and Barneth, 
Lady Mary Fitzgerald, and the princess Charlotte. In most of 
these discourses he speaks not much of the individuals ; but 
notices the excellencies of their characters only in a general 
way. In that on Dr. Conyers, a change of manner, as com- 
pared with his preceding publications, may be traced, which 
would not be favourable to popularity. There is an increase, 
or even excess of comprehensiveness, but a diminution of ani» 
mation. Indeed, he complains in a letter, that it cost him 
more than usual trouble to reduce this sermon to writing, after 
having preached it. The Sermons on Mr. Thornton, Lady 
Mary Fitzgerald, and the Princess, have already been sufficient- 
ly noticed. That on Mr. Newell contains a copious and beau- 
tiful illustration of the text, ''To me to live is Christ, &c.," to 
which great stores of Scriptural knowledge are made to contri- 
bute. Both this discourse and that on Mr. Pentycross display 
the practical workman, the minister that '"'• watches for souls,** 
in the manner in which the subject is brought to bear upoa 
the various descriptions of persons concerned in the event to 
be improved. The latter particularly considers the sxl3oL(fig^ 
^'the end of the minister's conversation," spoken of in the 
iext^ Hebrews, xiii. 7, 8. That on the missionary Barneth, de- 
scribes the Christian ^'' hero," in the very spirit of the charac 
ter itself, and is rich in Scriptural illustration. 

His Sermons on national occasions are also seven in number : 
namely, Fast Sermons in 1793, 1794, and 1796 ; and Thanks- 
giving Sermons in 1784, 1798, 1802, and 1814; to which may 
be added his Tract on the " Signs and Duties of the Times,** 
in 1799. 

Three principles pervade all his publications of this descrip- 
tion : 1. That the proper business of national fast-days, is hu- 
miliation before God for our sins as a people and as individuals t 
and that of national thanksgiving days, the acknowledgment c|f 

34 



398 flis WORKS. [chap, xviii. 

God's unmerited mercies to us : 2. That the national guilt, 
which draws down divine judgments upon us, is the aggregate 
of individual transgression, to which we have all contributed 
our full share : 3. That whoever be the instruments or means, 
both calamities and deliverances are to be considered as coming 
from the hand of God ; and that it is his part in them, with 
which alone we are concerned on these occasions. ^^ Humilia- 
tion for sin," he observes, '*'• or gratitude for unmerited bless- 
ings, has nothing to do w^ith approbation or disapprobation of 
men or measures." Thus he declines all political discussion — 
(not including, however, under that description, such an incul- 
cation of the duties owing from subjects to their rulers, as is ex- 
pressly enjoined on Chrsitian ministers ;*^) — avoids taking the 
side of any party ; rejects all declamation against the sins of 
our enemies ; and makes the whole bear, as a personal concern, 
on every individual. 

On this whole class of his publications I would remark, that, 
whereas it might be thought an uninteresting task to read over 
these obsolete fast and thanksgiving sermons, I have by no 
means found it so. On the contrary, I think it impossible for 
the well-disposed mind to peruse them, without very gratifying 
and very beneficial impressions ; especially when the subse- 
quent course of events, and in particular, the history of religious 
and benevolent institutions, is retraced in connexion with 
them. 

Sermons preached for institutions of this description are the 
only ones which remain to be noticed. 

That before the Church Missionary Society, in 1801, is a 
very copious discourse on the question of Missions, in which, 
among other topics, the view which the Scriptures present of 
the state and prospects of the heathen is considered, and it is 
affirmed, that to think so well as many profess to do of their 
condition, is a virtual denial of Christianity ; and that contrary 
sentiments concerning their state, so far from being the dictate^ 
of uncharitableness, have been the source of all the practical 
charity which has been exercised towards them. — That before 
the London Missionary Society, in 1804, is a very animated 
and effective address on the command, ^^ Pray ye therefore the 
Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his 
harvest." \u it the author observes of himself: '^ An early ac- 
quaintance with the writings of President Edwards, Brainerd. 
and the New England divines, gave my mind a peculiar turn to 
this subject. The nations unacquainted with Christ have ever 

* Titus iii. 1, 



CHAP. XVin.J HIS WORKS. ^^^^ 

since been near my heart : and I never thought a prayer com- 
plete in which they were wholly forgotten. This was the case 
several years before societies for missions (that is, new societies 
in England,) were established : but I could do no more than 
offer my feeble prayers." 

His sermon before the London Society for promoting Chris- 
tianity among the Jews, in 1810, is perhaps the most spirited 
of all his printed discourses. It contains a very interesting il* 
lustration of the remarkable prophecy, Zach. viii. 23 : '^ In 
those days it shall come to pass, that ten men shall take hold 
out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the 
skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go with you, for we 
have heard that God is with you." Nothing could be more un- 
likely, at the time this prophecy was delivered, than the fulfil- 
ment which it has received, in all the most enlightened nations 
of the earth becoming worshippers of the God of the despised 
Jews ! Yet the preacher argues, from comparison of the pas- 
sage with other Scriptures, that it has a still more astonishing, 
at least a much more extensive accomphshment yet to re- 
ceive. 

The last Sermon of this description is that before the go- 
vernors of the London Female Penitentiary, in 1812, which is 
on '' that one single event occurring on earth, that is declared 
to cause joy in heaven" — a sinner's coming to repentance. 

IV. Works directed against the infidelity and disaffection of 
the times. — These are the Rights of God, the Answer to the 
Age of Reason, and the Tract on Government. 

The first, it has already been said, gained but little attention ; 
less, I think, than it deserves, as compared with the rest of the 
author's smaller works. It is, perhaps, the best written, in 
point of style, of all his publications. It is also well argued, 
and seems suited to the purpose of precluding many of those 
false reasonings, by which numbers are prejudiced against the 
Scriptures previously to examination ; and excuse to their own 
minds the neglect with which they treat them. It is calcula- 
ted to obviate infidelity, not by meeting its cavils in detail, but 
by possessing the mind with principles wiiich would exclude 
them. It pleads the cause of Christian doctrines, not by addu- 
cing scriptural proofs, — for that would be foreign to the present 
purpose, — but by defending them against the charge of being 
so unreasonable as to be rejected without hstening to their evi- 
dence. — Besides meeting specific objections, the Answer to 
Paine treats more generally, in as many distinct chapters, of 
Revelation, Miracles, Prophecy, the Canon of Scripture, Mys- 
tery, Redemption, the Insufficiency of Deism, and the Nature 
and tendency of Christianity. 



The '^ Impartial Statement of the Scripture Doctrine in re- 
spect of Civil Government, and the Duties of Subjects," must 
be allowed, I think, by all candid persons, to be very mode- 
rate, wise, and useful ; and it is still seasonable. It is divided 
into three chapters: the first containing '^Propositions con- 
cerning Civil Government as the ordinance of God :" the se- 
cond pointing out " Things not the duties of Subjects to their 
Rulers :" and the third, " Duties incumbent on us to our Ru- 
lers, and in respect of Civil Government." 

V. Other controversial Works : namely, the Answer to 
Rabbi Crool on the Jewish question, the Answer to Bishop 
Tomline's '^ Refutation of Calvinism," and, as arising out of 
it, the History of the Synod of Dort. 

The first of these publications has been repeatedly adverted 
to in letters written while it was in preparation, and inserted in 
a former part of this work. It may here be remarked, that 
besides following the work which gave occasion to it, from page 
to page, and answering its objections, or meeting its arguments 
as they arise, (a mode of reply, which, it must be confessed, 
combines with some advantages, an apparent want of arrange- 
ment,) it discusses, in a distinct manner, the following principal 
questions and subjects. 

1. ' Was the Messiah, predicted in the Old Testament, to 
have an immediate human father ? 



a iiioio lAici 



3. 'At what period was his coming to take place ? 

4. ' Wliat are we to understand by '' the times of the Gen- 
tiles ?" 

6. ' What have been the effects of Christ's coming on the 
state of the world ?' — answered in a very forcible and interestmg 
manner. 

6. ' The triumphs of Jesus compared with those of Moham- 
med ;' particularly in three points, 1. 'The state of the coun- 
tries in which their first successes were respectively obtained : 

2. The nature of the religion propagated by each : and, 

3. The means by which the triumphs of each were gained, 
— This was the author's favourite section, and it is certainly 
very striking. It treats the subject more in detail than is usual- 
ly done. 

7. ' Whether the Messiah was to be the Messiah of Israel on- 
ly, or of the Gentiles also ? 

8 ' How far, and in what cases, miracles are a proof of a 
divine mission ? 

9. ' Was the Messiah's kingdom to be spiritual, or absolutely 
earthly ? 



CHAP. XVIII.] HIS WORKS. 401 

10. ^ The Priesthood of the Messiah. 
11.^ The reception which he was to meet with from the na- 
tion of Israel. 

12. ^The death which he was to suffer, and the end to be 
answered by it.' — Here striking remarks are made on Isaiah liii, 
Psalm xxii, and other Scriptures. 

13. ' His resurrection, subsequent glory, and kingdom.' 
AH these questions are, of course, discussed from the Old 

Testament alone. The subjects, also, of sacrifices, the oral 
law, or traditions, and several others, come under considera- 
tion. 

Of the work generally, the Christian Observer, for 1815, 
thus speaks : ^^ Should it prove the cycnea vox^ the dying note 
of this truly great man, (the author,) which we trust it may not, 
we shall say much for this publication if we pronounce it wor- 
thy to be so ; and state it to be inferior, neither in matter nor 
temper, to any of the truly Christian productions of his power- 
ful mind." 

On the Answer to the ^^ Refutation of Calvinism," I shall do 
little more than transcribe the opinion which Mr. Wilson has 
given, in notes annexed to his funeral sermons. " It appears 
to me," he says, " incomparable for the acute and masterly de- 
fence of truth." And again : " The effects of these great qua- 
lities" — decision, activity, and childlike submission to divine 
revelation, — ^' are observable in every part of our departed 
friend's writings. They are full of thought ; full of Hhe seeds 
of things,' as was said of Lord Bacon's works. The ore dug 
up from the mine, is not unalloyed, indeed, but it is rich and 
copious, and well worthy of the process necessary to bring it 
into use. Take as an instance, ' The Remarks,' which, in the 
second edition, I venture to call one of the first theological 
treatises of the day ; it is pregnant with valuable matter, not 
merely on the questions directly discussed, but on almost every 
topic of doctrinal and practical divinity." 

It is needless to say that they are not the mere peculiarities 
of Calvinism which are defended in this work : had such been 
the only points assailed, it would probably never have appear* 
ed : "But in falHngfoul of Calvinism," the volume which gave 
occasion to it, offended grievously against Bishop Horsley's 
caution, to beware of " attacking something more sacred, and 
of a higher origin" — even what " belongs to our common Chris- 
tianity :" and hence the answer, of course, takes equally wide 
ground. — To the Christian temper, and respectful style in 
which it is written, the learned prelate concerned is said, / Ue-^ 
lieve upon good authority, to have done justice. 

3.4* 



^HIS^WrOKKS. [CHAP. XVIlt 

The learned and candid head of Oreil College, Oxford, also, 
in quoting from this work a passage to which all who engage 
in religious controversy would do well to take heed, terms the 
author ^' one of the most pious and temperate writers," among 
modern Calvinists, and says of him, ^^ whose truly Christian 
sentiments I always admire, although his opinions upon the 
main doctrine under consideration" — that of predestination — 
^^ appear to me mistaken and dangerous."* 

The little work on the Synod of Dort arose out of the pre- 
ceding publication. The account of the Synod commonly re- 
ceived in this country, is that furnished by the prejudiced Peter 
Heylin, who gives the abbreviation of the articles by Daniel 
Tilenus, instead of the articles themselves. His statements 
are taken upon trust, and repeated by one writer after another, 
in a manner little creditable either to their diligence or their 
candour. My father finding these abbreviated articles in the 
Refutation of Calvinism, remarked upon them, in the first edi- 
tion of his answer, as if they had been authentic, and thus, as 
he says, " erroneously adopted and aided in circulating a gross 
misrepresentation of the Synod." The discovery of his mis- 
take, led him to a more full investigation of the subject, and 
thus to translate and give to the pubhc, 1. '^ The History of 
preceding Events" which led to the convocation of the Synod : 
2. " The judgment of the Synod," concerning the five contro- 
verted heads of doctrine : 3. " The Articles" of the Synod : 
4. '^ The approbation of the States General :" — subjoining his 
own remarks on each part. The translation is made from the 
" Acts" of the Synod, published by authority, in a Latin quarto 
volume : a work which, it is worthy of remark, is never allu- 
ded to by either Mosheim, or his translator Maclaine, though 
they refer to various other writings, on both sides, apparently 
of a less authentic character. The following reasons are as- 
signed for the publication before us : 1. '^ That a very interest 
ing and important part of ecclesiastical history has been ob- 
scured and overwhelmed with unmerited disgrace, by the mis- 
representations given of the Synod and its articles, especially 
in this nation :" 2. That the author wished " to prove that the 
doctrines commonly termed Calvinistic, whether they be or 
%)e not the doctrines of scriptural Christianity, may yet be so 
stated and explained, without any skilful and laboured efforts, 
as to coincide with the strictest practical views of our holy 
religion, and so as greatly to encourage and promote genuine 
Jhdliness:'' 3. That "in a day when these doctrines are not 

* Copleston on Necessity end Predestination, p. 90. 



CHAP, xvlil.j mij TMiliJLOUic. 4UJ 

only proscribed in a most hostile manner on one side, but de- 
plorably misunderstood and perverted by many on the other 
side, he desired to add one more testimony against these mis- 
apprehensions and perversions, by showing in what a holy, 
guarded, and reverential manner, the divines of this reproba- 
ted Synod stated and explained them, compared with the su- 
perficial, incautious, and often unholy and presumptuous man- 
ner of too many in the present day :" 4. That he also *■' de- 
sired to make it manifest, that the deviations from the creeds of 
the Reformed churches, in those points which are more proper- 
ly called Calvinistic, is seldom, for any length of time, kept se- 
parated from deviations in those doctrines, which are more ge- 
nerally allowed to be essential to vital Christianity :" 5. That 
he ^' purposed, by means of this publication, to leave behind 
him in print his deliberate judgment on several controverted 
points ; which (judgment) must otherwise have died with him, 
or have been published separately, — for which he had no in- 
chnation." The controverted points referred to, are princi- 
pally those relating to toleration, rehgious liberty, terms of com- 
munion, and other ecclesiastical questions. To his sentiments 
here delivered on these subjects, we may apply what he himself 
has said of the kindred ones contained in another pubHcation, 
to be noticed immediately, they are such as "-^ will please the 
bigots of no party." 

In this work, (page 172,) he delivers a strong opinion on the 
subject of what is miscalled Cathohc emancipation. 

In the present' class we may, perhaps, range the only sepa- 
rate publication which remains to be noticed : the Letters to 
the Rev. Peter Roe on Ecclesiastical Establishments, adhe- 
rence to the Church of England, &;c. with a Tractate annexed 
on the Rehgious Estabhshment of Israel. The last he esteem- 
to be novel : at least, he observed, it was quite new to him- 
self. The principle which it chiefly goes to estabhsh is, that 
the conduct of the pious kings and governors of Judah, — Je- 
hoshaphat, Hezekiah, Josiah, Zerubbabel, Ezra, Nehemiah — 
in their exertions for promoting religion among those under 
their command, which are sanctioned by the unqualified appro- 
bation of Scripture, '' was not adopted in obedience to any part 
of the ritual or political law of Moses," but was nothing more 
than that improvement of their talents, which would be incum- 
bent upon any persons now occupying similar stations, and 
'' was intended as an example for kings and princes, professing 
Christianity, to imitate." That spirit of moderation, which, 
the writer anticipated, would render these letters distasteful to 
zrealots on all sides, will make them the more acceptable to fail 



iVi HIS THlflOliCHJy. I^CHAP. XVUI. 

and reasonable men ; and they will probably be deemed, by 
such persons, better suited to plead the cause of the establish- 
ed church, by their not taking it up upon too high grounds. 

Besides these works, my father was the author of many de- 
tached papers in various periodical publications, some of which 
are to be found in the fourth volume of his collected works ; 
and a specimen of them has been introduced in speaking of 
the general principle of interpretation adopted in his Commen- 
tary. 

Passing from this review of my father's works to some ob- 
servations on the general character of his theology, I should 
say, that its great and distinguishing excellency appears to be 
— its comprehensiveness. It embraces, as far, perhaps, as the 
infirmity of human nature will permit, the whole compass of 
Scripture. Like the father of the faithful, he " walks through 
the land in the length thereof and in the breadth thereof." It 
would be difficult, I think, to name a writer, who more faithful- 
ly and unreservedly brings forward every part of Scriptural 
instruction in its due place and proportion, and is content upon 
all of them " to speak as do the oracles of God." He sacri- 
fices no one doctrine or principle, nor suffers himself to be re- 
strained in fairly and fully pressing each upon attention, by 
jealousy for the security and honour of any other. Persua- 
ded that Scripture is every where consistent with itself, whether 
it appears to us to be so or not, he has no ambition to preserve 
apparent consistency more exactly than the sacred writers have 
done. Hence he never scruples to unite together those truths 
of divine revelation, which to many appear as if they must ex- 
clude one another. He teaches the total inability of fallen man, 
unrenewed by divine grace, to render any acceptable obedience 
to God ; but he never, for a moment, suffers himself to be en- 
tangled in the reasonings of those who would, on this ground^ 
call in question the obligations of the divine law, or forbear to 
press upon all men the commands and exhortations, which the 
sacred Scriptures do certainly address to them. He teaches 
that ^' no man can come to Christ except the Father draw him :" 
yet he feels no hesitation in connecting with this principle, the 
invitation, "whosoever will, let him come," the assurance, 
*^ him that cometh, I will in no wise cast out," or the inexcusa- 
ble guilt of those who " will not come." He believed that 
God knew whom he had chosen, and that none would event- 
ually attain eternal life, but those whom the Father, by his 
own purpose and grace, had " given" unto Christ : yet he un- 
equivocally teaches that Christ died for all men, and that none 
fail ofbeicg saved by him, except by their oWn fault. He as/ 



tllAl\ AVUl.J JUiSj IHhULlJUy, ^ULi 

serts with unwavering confidence and zeal, that our justification 
is altogether free, of grace, through faith, " fur the merits of 
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ alone," and in no degree 
'* for our own works or deservings :'* yet he equally maintains, 
that he only " who doeth righteousness is righteous ;" seeing 
all true faith must and will prove itself by its fruits : and insists 
that we are still under the law as a rule^ though delivered from 
it as a co7Jenant, He held that all true believers in Christ arc 
"kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation," and 
will certainly persevere unto the end ; and yet, that " if any 
man draw back, God shall have no pleasure in him ;" and that 
if we would ever come to heaven, we must " give diligence to 
make our calling and election sure." 

It is almost needless to obso».rve to how many charges of 
error on the right hand and the left, this resolute adherence to 
the whole of scriptural instruction would expose him, at dif- 
ferent times and from different classes of men. The anti-Cal- 
vinist reproached him for his Calvinism, and the hyper-Cal- 
vinist called him an Arminian. The mere moralist trembled 
for the consequences of his antinomian d\octrine of justification ; 
while numbers in an opposite extreme r«onsidered his insist- 
ing upon the evidences of faith, and the g.*5neral strictness of 
his teaching, as legale engendering a '' spirit t>f bondage," and 
involving a surrender of the freeness of the gospel, and of the 
privileges of the believer. He, however, preachod and wrote 
^' straightforward," — according to an expression noticed above ; 
(p. 272,) he constantly moved on in the course whici? he saw 
clearly marked out before him, heedless of conflicting charges, 
which appeared to him evidently directed against the prac- 
tice of Scripture, and not against any unauthorized peculiarity 
of his own. He was fully of opinion, that the church of 
Christ had ever been grievously infested by schemes of divini- 
ty, of different kinds, formed by setting up a part, often a small 
part of divine truth, to the comparative neglect, or even exclu- 
sion of the rest : he wished, therefore, to be constantly com- 
paring his own theology with the whole of Scripture, and could 
never be satisfied while any part of the divine oracles seemed 
not to obtain its due portion of regard, or to require any force 
to be put upon it to make it comport with his views. 

Let it not be supposed to be here imj>lied, that he every 
where, and on all points, attained to a perfect conformity with 
the word of God : no one could be more sensible than he was 
of the error and imperfection which must ever attend all hu- 
man attainments. But such as has been described was his 
aim — the object of his incessant study, and unwearied prayers : 
and the most that is here affirmed is, that he appears to have 



4GG HIS THEOLOGY. [CHAP. XVIIL 

been a thorouglily scriptural divine, as far, perhaps, as we can 
hope to see it granted to the imperfection of human nature to 
become such. 

What has been already stated almost virtually include every 
thing else that I can have to observe on his theology ; still 
there are one or two points which I would notice more dis- 
tinctly. 

I next, therefore, observe that his theology was distinguish- 
ed by its highly practical character : — under which term I in- 
clude not only its sobriety, moderation, and freedom from re- 
finement and speculation, but especially its holy strictness. 
The reader will, throughout this work, have observed him 
complaining of the degree of antinomianism, both theoretical 
and practical, which was prevalent, and against which he ac- 
cordingly very much directed his efforts, both from the pulpit 
and the press. 

What were his views of the Antinomian tendency of much 
public teaching may receive illustration from the extract of a 
letter inserted in an early part of his history.^ It was not 
merely where tenets p(>sitively antinomian were avowed — 
where the law was denied to be the rule of duty — where in- 
deed " duty" was declared " not to be a word for a Christian" 
— where the trial of our faith by its fruits v/as discarded — but 
Wherever Christians were left uninstructed in their various du- 
ties ; were <i«nly told in general, that they must be holy, while 
the nature and the particulars of holiness were left unexplain- 
ed, ami httle else than doctrines and privileges were insisted 
on. In all these cases he thought the teaching of an antino- 
mian tendency. 

Practical antinomianism also prevailed, according to his 
views of things, not only where men were dishonest or licentious 
under a religious profession, (though many such flagrant in- 
stances existed,) but wherever worldliness of mind, luxury, un- 
christian tempers, the neglect of relative duties, or a slothful 
and self-indulgent omission of the proper improvement of ta- 
lents, was allowed under a profession of religion. He found 
when he entered upon his course, throughout a great part of 
the religious world, repentance little insisted upon, - faith re- 
presented as very much consisting in personal assurance, — re- 
ligious professors in general, with little previous inquiry, en- 
couraged and even urged to keep up a good opinion of their 
own safe state, (as it must indeed be every man's duty to do, if 
such be tlie nature of faith ;) — the evidence of holy fruits but 

* See page 132. 



CHAP. XVill.] HIS THEOLOGY. 407 

dubiously required in order to warrant any man's confidence 
concerning himself — the love of God resolved into little more 
than mere gratitude for benefits assumed to have been received, 
(vs^hich is easily excited under such a system, upon very falla- 
cious grounds ;) — particular duties not at all dwelt upon — invi- 
tations and exhortations very much neglected, even where their 
propriety was not called in question. It need not here be said 
how directly he opposed himself to the whole of this scheme : 
how he insisted on " repentance, and fruits meet for repent- 
ance ;" on the sanctifying effects of all true faith, by which 
alone its existence can be proved ; on reconciliation to the di- 
vine holiness, law, and government, as well as gratitude for 
mercies received ; and on all the detail of duty — fully and par- 
ticularly laying open the divine law in its strictness and extent, 
both for the conviction of the sinner, and for the information 
of the Christian believer, '^ how in all things he ought to walk 
and to please God." He spoke much of the necessity of Ms- 
tinguishing preaching, which should, as clearly as possible, 
discriminate not only truth from error in doctrine, but the genu- 
ine from the spurious in Christian experience, and the sound 
character from the unsound, among persons professing godli- 
ness. In this way he commenced, and he persevered to the 
end — " abounding more and more ;" and he lived to see, un- 
der God's blessing, his exertions crowned with great and ex- 
tensive success. 

But, lastly, though highly practical, the whole of his theolo- 
gy was also strongly evangelical : — which term I here use in 
no sense that any person of common fairness can call secta- 
rian. I mean by it, that the great truths relating to our redemp- 
tion, and the promises of mercy and grace made to us in Je- 
sus Christ, were ever prominent in his own mind, and in the 
whole of his instructions. He never lost sight of them ; he 
never threw them into shade : he could not do it : he had that 
constant and deep sense of their necessity, as the support of his 
own hopes, and the source of all his strength and vigour for 
every duty, which would have effectually prevented his keep- 
ing them back, or proposing them timide gelideque^ even if he 
had not been on principle so decidedly o[ posed as he was to 
such a line of conduct. He held, as Bishop Burnett also did, 
that not even a single sermon should fail of so far developing 
the principles of the gospel, as distinctly to point out the way 
of salvation to the awakened and inquiring conscience : and 
that this would easily be done, by a mind as fully imbued as it 
should be with Christian truths, without doing any violence to 
the particular subject under discussion, or even infringing the 



408 cois'CLrsioN. [chap, xviii. 

rules of good composition. And, so far from thinking that a 
tendency towards an antinomian abuse of the truths of the gos- 
pel was to be counteracted by a jealous, timid, scanty, reluc- 
tant exliibition of them, he was decidedly of opinion, that no- 
thing gave more advantage to corrupt teachers, than such a 
plan ; which enabled them to appeal to their hearers, that they 
could be opposed only by a concealment of the fundamental 
truths of the gospel. He would guard these truths, not by 
keeping them back, but only by proposing them in connexion 
with all the other truths with which they stand combined in 
Scripture. But a letter already inserted, may speak his senti- 
ments upon this subject.'^— And if the testimony of another 
witness be at all called for, we may adduce that of a late vene- 
rable person, repeatedly alluded to in this work, Mr. Richard- 
son of York. Writing of him only a few days before his own 
death, Mr. R. says, ^^ I had the highest respect for that most 
useful, laborious, and honest man. He was always practical, 
but never tampered with the doctrines of grace, w^hich he 
taught clearly and fully. He is a safe guide, never fanciful, 
never running into extremes." 

On the last head of practical strictness, a hope was expressed, 
that an improvement had taken place among many of the class 
of persons called evangelical, since my father commenced his 
ministry : on the present, may there not be room to suggest a 
caution, lest we, who have been brought up in familiarity with 
those great truths, which burst upon some of our predecessors 
with all the impression of a first discovery, should exhibit them 
Jess vividly, and press them less earnestly, than out fathers did ; 
)est the gospel of Christ should be diluted, and so far at least 
adulterated in our hands ? 



Having thus accomplished the task which devolved on mc, 
of giving to the public as full and faithful an account as I was 
able, of my ever dear and honoured father's life — in doing 
which I have certainly enjoyed great pleasure, though attended 
with considerable anxiety, — I shall now take leave of the reader 
by offering a few reflections on what has passed in review before 
us. 

1. When I turned from the solemnities of my father's dying 
chamber, the following thoughts, among many others, forcibly 
suggested themselves to my mind. 

♦ See page 130. 



€'HAP. XVIII.] CONCLUSION. 409 

'^ Who could stand and witness that scene, without being im- 
pressed with the reality and magnitude of those objects which 
engrossed all his thoughts : about which he had always been 
deeply in earnest, but which now called forth in him an earnest- 
ness greater than ever ? 

'^ Who could contemplate his spirit and temper, the vigour 
and fervency of his mind, the holy affections which he manifest- 
ed, and the ardour with which he aspired to a higher state, with- 
out /geZiwg sure^ that he was not going to be extinguished, but, 
on the contrary, to rise to a superior existence, the blessedness 
of which surpassed our comprehension ?" 

To the same purport, may I not now ask, can any one deli- 
berately survey the contents of this volume ; the history of him 
to whom it relates ; the whole of his spirit and manner of life ; 
his correspondence, his conversation in the world, and the event 
of his course ; without deriving from it all a most impressive 
lesson on the reality and blessedness of true religion ? — To say 
one word on his sincerity in his profession would be utterly im- 
pertinent. No one does, no one can, call it in question. His 
religion was not only sincere, it had a deep and most powerful 
hold upon his mind ; it v/as the all-pervading principle which 
^roverned his life. He was every where the same ; in his pri- 
vate correspondence, in the bosom of his own family, and in 
all his intercourse with his friends. The world was every 
where subordinated, and reduced to a very low rank indeed in 
his esteem ; God and eternity were every thing. Indeed, so 
profound was the impression, and, at the same time, so wise and 
consistent the conduct which it dictated, that it was scarcely 
possible to observe him, without an inward conviction that he 
was rights as well as sincere ; that the principle on which he 
was acting was sound and well founded. Irreligion could not 
but stand abashed in his presence, and pay the homage of con- 
scious inferiority and worthlessness. 

The effect produced upon him by his religion was indeed 
most powerful. We have seen that it made him a new man. 
It subdued his natural pride, and ambition, and love of thd 
world, and selfishness ; and turned all the energies of his cha- 
racter into a new channel. Its mighty influence was seen not 
only in the first great change which it accomphshed ; but it con- 
tinued and increased to the end of hfe ; so that patience, and 
meekness, and gentleness, gradually more and more took place 
of natural impetuosity and vehemence, till at length they almost 
wholly supplanted their antagonists. 

The influence exerted upon him was, consequently, no less 
excellent and blessed than it was powerfbl. It was blessed, as 
Ms own mind was concerned : and it was evidently, from the 



i! 



410 CONCLUSION. [chap. XVIII, 

first, preparing him for higher blessedness, by making him 
*' meet to be partaker of the saints in light." — It was blessed 
in all its effects upon his family, and near friends and depend- 
ents : who now ^^ arise and call him blessed," and dwell with 
unspeakable dehght and thankfulness on what they have witness- 
ed in him, and derived from him. — And it was blessed in al 
that usefulness which followed from it to multitudes, whose 
number shall then first be known when they come forth to be, 
" his joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus.'' 

2. Another reflection which forcibly suggests itself, arises 
from the comparison of his early, with his more advanced life ; 
of what he originally was with what he ultimately became. 
Who, from the consideration of his education, his character, 
and the circumstances in which he was placed, till more than 
the youthful period of hfe had elapsed, would have anticipated 
his attaining and achieving what we have seen him achieve and 
attain? But this is only one among unnumbered instances of 
the like dispensations of Almighty God. It was not exclusively 
in the case of the Apostles and primitive Christians, taken in 
general from the humblest classes of society, that '^ God chose 
the foolish things of the world to confound the wise ; and weak 
things of the world to confound the mighty ; and base things of 
the world, and things which are despised, yea, and things which 
are not, to bring to nought things that are :" (1 Cor. i. 26—28 ;) 
but it is surprising, and to the pious mind deeply and pleasingly 
affecting, in looking back through the histories of the church, 
and of the world, to observe how much the principle of this 
remark holds good. Not only have the most unpromising cha- 
racters been, in many instances, made monuments of the saving 
mercy and grace of God ; but the most unlikely instrument 
have generally been made the means of effecting the greatest 
purposes. 

Not to ascend at all above our own age, or to depart from 
the particular class of individuals with whom the present me- 
moirs immediately connect us, (though it would be easy to do | 
both, so as to interest and affect the pious reader,) I may ask 
who would have anticipated, in looking to their early histories 
that New^ton should have become so beloved and honoured a 
father in the church of Christ as thousands acknowledge him 
to be ; or that Buchanan should have quitted his native Scot- 
land in so singular a manner, to prove the most efficient leader | 
in the great cause of Indian Christianization ? No more could | 
any one have supposed that an almost outcast Lincolnshire! 
shepherd would become the commentator on Scripture, whose! 
work should possess decidedly the greatest practical utility, an'^ 



CHAP. XVin.] CONCLUSION. 411 

bid fair to be the most widely read, of any similar production of 
the age. 

Reflections like these may not, I am aware, be agreeable to 
all readers : but, if they be founded on undeniable facts, it nei- 
ther becomes us to rebel against them, nor to avert our thoughts 
from them. The design of divine wisdom in such an ordina- 
tion of events is pointed out, in immediate connexion with the 
passage already quoted at the commencement of the present 

observations : " that no flesh should glory in his presence 

but, according as it is written. He that glorieth, let him glory 
in the Lord." (1 Cor. i. 29, 31.) And even where this train of 
thought may lead us n(^t only to cases of extraordinary useful- 
ness, but even to the subject of the attainment of that knowledge 
wherein ^ standeth our eternal life,' it will be found to border 
closely upon topics, which produced the only recorded instance 
of joy in the breast ef him who sojourned here below as '-'' the 
man of sorrows :" '^ In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and 
said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, be- 
cause thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, 
and hast revealed them unto babes ! Even so. Father, for so 
it seemed good in thy sight." This is the perfect pattern of 
that humble, admiring adoration, with which those depths of 
the divine counsels are to be contemplated, which, in this world, 
at least, we must never expect to fathom. 

At the same time, instances, like those to which we have 
been adverting, furnish no excuse for the neglect of the ordina- 
ry means of becoming both good and useful ; nor any pretence 
for the insinuation sometimes made, of our teaching that the 
way to be " brought nigh" to God is, to depart as '^ far off" 
from him as possible. No: whatever forms the "ordinary" 
means of conducting to goodness and usefuless, possesses, by 
virtue of its very character, as the ordinary means, an undenia« 
ble claim to be employed by us ; and, where faithfully employ- 
ed, it shall never be in vain. This, however, shall not hinder 
but that God will from time to time show, that he can efl^ect 
more without usual means, than we can by all our means, with- 
out his special blessing : — ^just as in the intellectual world, he 
sometimes raises up a genius which shall surpass, without rules 
and instruction, whatever minds of the customary standard can 
attain with all advantages in their favour. 

In like manner to affirm that sometimes God brings nearesf- 
to himself those who had wandered farthest from him, affords 
not even a plausible pretext for saying, that the way to obtain 
abundant grace is to commit abundant sin. God does some- 
times exhibit such monuments of his mercy ; but these are his 
extraordinary, and not his ordinary works. The abuse of 



412 coNCLusieN. [chap, xviir* 

such instances was guarded against in an early part of these 
memoirs.^ They are what all should admire, — ^^ to the praise 
of the glory of God's grace," — wherever they occur, but on 
the occurrence of which no man can, in any given instance, 
calculate. 

3. In the third place, my father's history striking-ly illustrates 
the immense advantage of such a thorough study of the Holy 
Scriptures accempanied by constant prayer for illumination to 
the great fountain of wisdom, as marked his religious course 
from its very commencement. In this was evidently laid the 
foundation of all that subsequently distinguished him ; of the 
steadiness and consistency of his views ; of the assured confi- 
dence he felt in the principles which he had embraced ; of his 
competence as an instructer and a counsellor ; of those valua- 
ble qualities which chracterized his theology ; and, finally, of 
his extensive, and, it may confidently be anticipated, permanent 
usefulness. And if the question be examined, it will, I be^ 
lieve, be found that a course of procedure, substantially simi- 
lar, has prepared, for future service, almost all those divines 
who have obtained eminent reputation, and lasting usefulness, 
in the church of God. A thorough study of the Scriptures 
themselves, with the use of proper helps, but without rehance 
upon them, and not of any mere human systems, should form 
the basis of our professional knowledge. This is a homage due 
to the word of God ; and it is the only measure that can make 
us "grounded and settled," "workmen that need not to be 
ashamed." — Yet how greatly is it wanting even among our more 
serious and pious clergy ! I speak with a painful sense of my 
own deficiencies, in this respect ; though without affecting to 
think them greater than those of many around me. If the pe- 
rusal of my father's history might promote, among the younger 
members of the clerical profession, a deep study of the whole 
sacred volume, and through life, a constant comparison of all 
they read and hear with its contents, I can conceive of no re- 
sult which it would have given him greater pleasure to contem- 
plate. 

4 Lastly : I have already pointed it out, as an important 
lesson, suggested by my father's history, to those who, amid 
the difficulties of this world, are striving to do good, especially 
in the work of the ministry, — that a course, which is deeply 
painful and discouraging at the time, may, and, if well support- 
ed, assuredly will, prove highly useful in the event. That my 
father's usefulness was great, and is likely still to be so, I now 
assume. Yet that his course was, during the far greater part 

♦ See page 21. 



€HAP. XVIII.] CONCLUSION. 413 

of its durationf painful and discouraging in no common degree, 
is well known to those who had the opportunity of taking a 
Dear view of it, and must be evident to all, who have duly esti- 
mated the neglect or opposition he encountered at Olney ; the 
severer and more protracted conflicts at the Lock, maintained 
against prevailing evils, and under the pressure of most dis- 
heartening unpopularity ; and the difficulties with which he had 
to struggle, more or less, for five and twenty years together, in 
giving his Commentary on the Bible to the world. Yet all has 
had such an issue, as may justly add confidence to the faith, 
and animation to the hope, of every true soldier and servant of 
Jesus Christ. In encountering difficulties, and suffering dis» 
couragement, in our labours of zeal for God, and love to man- 
kind, we are but followers of "•' those, who, through faith and 
patience, — having done the will of God, — now inherit his pro- 
mises." Prophets and apostles have trod this path before us ; 
and assuredly what we have to encounter, compared with what 
they overcame, is such as may more justly subject us, if we be 
•' weary and faint in our minds," to the reproof which was ad« 
dressed to one of their number : " If thou hast run with the 
footmen, and they have wearied thee, what wilt thou do if thou 
sbalt contend with horses ?" — Even the Son of God is propheti- 
cally represented as tempted to say, while he sojourned among 
us, " I have laboured in vain, and spent my strength for nought :" 
hut he instantly subjoins, (thus setting us the perfect example 
of resignation and trust in his heavenly Father ;) '' Neverthe^ 
less, my work is with the Lord, and my judgment is with my 
God." Let us then assuredly believe, that in our labours for 
others, as well as in our care for our own personal salvation, 
•* He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall 
doubtless come again Vv^ith rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with 
him." And, in this confidence, let us endeavour, after the ex- 
ample of the servant of God, whose unwearied exertions, con- 
tinued to the end of a long life, we have been contemplating, 
to be " steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work 
of the Lord ; forasmuch as we know that om laboui' J3 not in 
vain in the Lord.'' Amen I 



35^ 



A 

BRIEF MEMOIR 

OP 

MR. SCOTT'S ELDEST DAUGHTER, 

WHO DIED AT WESTON UNDERWOOD, IN MAY, 1780 ; 



Annexed by him to his narrative of his own Life. 



" In a former part of this narrative, I just mentioned 
the death of my eldest daughter, aged four years and a 
half, and I shall here subjoin a few more particulars re- 
specting her. — At the age of three years and a half she 
had a most extraordinary and distressing illness, so that 
for several weeks, she could not be induced to take ei- 
ther medicine or nutriment of any kind, but what was 
poured down her throat almost by main force. I had 
little expectation of her recovery ; but I was under a 
full and deep conviction, that all the human race are born 
in sin, and are utterly incapable of happiness hereafter^ 
without regeneration and renovation by the Holy Spirit. 
This, if actually wrought in childhood, I was satisfied 
would begin to show itself about the time when chil- 
dren become actual sinners by personal and wilful trans- 
gression : and I was fully assured that she had become 
an actual sinner. Seeing, therefore, no ground to be- 
lieve that any gracious change had taken place in her, 
I was greatly distressed about her eternal state : and I 
repeatedly and most earnestly besought the Lord that 
he would not take her from me, without affording me 
some evidence of her repentance, and faith in his mercy 
through Jesus Christ. 



MEMOIR. 415 

'' To the surprise of all, she recovered, and lived just 
another year. Half of this year was remarkable for no- 
thing, except the proofs which she gave of a very good 
understanding, and the readiness with which she learned 
whatever was taught her. Indeed, she almost taught 
herself to read ; and was so much the astonishment of 
our neighbours, that they expressed a persuasion that 
she would not live long — which I treated with contempt. 
But about the middle of the year, on my return home 
one evening, my wife told me that her daughter had 
behaved very ill, and been so rebellious and obstinate^ 
that she had been constrained to correct her. In con- 
sequence, I took her between my knees, and began to 
talk to her. I told her she had often heard that she 
was a sinner against God ; that sin was breaking the 
commandments of God : that he had commanded her 
to honour and obey her father and mother : but that she 
had disobeyed her mother, and thus sinned against God 
and made him angry at her — far more angry than her 
mother had been : that she had also often heard that 
she must have a new heart or disposition ; that, if her 
heart or disposition were not wicked, she would not thus 
want a new one ; but that her obstinate rebellious con- 
duct to her mother, (with some other instances which I 
mentioned,) showed that her heart was wicked : that 
she, therefore, wanted both forgiveness of sins and a 
new heart, without which she could not be happy in 
another world, after death. I went on to talk with 
her, in language suited to her age, concerning the love, 
and mercy, and grace of Christ, in a manner which I 
cannot particularly describe : but my heart was much 
engaged, and out of the abundance of my heart my mouth 
spoke : and I concluded with pressing it upon her con- 
stantly to pray to Jesus Christ to forgive her sins : to 
give her a new heart ; and not to let her die till he had 
indeed done so. 

" I have good ground to believe that, from that time 
to her death, no day passed in which she did not, alone, 
more than once, and with apparent earnestness, pray 
to Jesus Christ to this effect ; adding petitions for her 
father, mother, and brothers, and for her nurse — to 
whom she was much attached. At times we overheard 



416 



MEMOIR. 



her in a little room to which she used to retire; and on 
some occasions her prayers were accompanied with sobs 
and tears. Once she was guilty of an untruth ; and I 
reasoned and expostulated with her on the wickedness 
of lying. I almost seem now to hear her subsequent 
confessions in her retirements ; her cries for forgiveness : 
her prayers for a new and better heart ; and that she 
might not die ' before her new heart came.' She could 
scarcely proceed for sobs and tears.— In short, there 
was every thing in miniature, which I ever witnessed or 
read of in an adult penitent : and certainly there were 
fruits meet for repentance; for nothing reprehensible after- 
ward occurred in her conduct. 

" Just at the time the Olney Hymns were published : 
and without any one putting her upon it, she got many 
of them by heart ; and for some months, the first voice 
which I heard in the morning, was her's, repeating these 
hymns, and those of Dr. Watts : and frequently she 
would come to me to tell me what a beautiful hymn she 
had found, and then repeat it without book. 

" I niight recite many of her sayings, which, parental 
partiality apart, I must think surpassed what I have heard 
from one so young. The favourite servant who has been 
mentioned, sometimes used the name of God or Lord 
in an improper manner, and the child would affection- 
ately remonstrate with her, and say, ' Do not use such 
ivords, Kitty : you will certainly go to hell if you say 
such naughty words.' She evidently understood the 
great outlines of the plan of salvation. ' Papa,' she 
said, ' you preached to-day concerning the Lamb's blood.' 
I answered, ' What does that mean V She replied, ' The 
blood of Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, which taketb 
away the burden of sin out of our hearts.' — The day pre- 
ceding her death, she read to me a chapter in St. John, 
in which the Jews charged Jesus with breaking the sab- 
bath. On this she paused and said, ' Papa, did Jesus 
Christ ever break the sabbath 9' I answered, ' No : but 
he did good on the sabbath-day, and his enemies cal- 
)ed that breaking the sabbath.' ' I thought so,' she 
said ; ' Jesus was always good ; but we are all naughty 
till he makes us good. Peter was a good man : but Pe- 
toy was naughty till Jesus Christ made him good.' 



MEMOIR, 41T 

" When any minister or pious friend came to see me, 
no play or amusement would draw her away from us 
when our conversation was on religious topics. She 
would stand fixed in attention, and evidently interested 
in what was said. She seldom spoke on these occa- 
sions ; but she would sometimes ask me questions after- 
ward on what she had heard. 

" The day before she died the Rev. Mr. Powley of 
Dewsbury, in Yorkshire, (who had married Mrs. Unwinds 
daughter,) had engaged to come to see me, and to 
preach in the evening. After dinner I employed my- 
self, as I frequently did, in sawing wood for fuel. She 
came and prattled with me, and several times by degrees 
got so near me, that I feared the large pieces of wood 
would fall on her. I sent her farther off: yet still, in- 
tent on our talk, she crept near again, till at length a 
very large log, which could scarcely have failed to kill 
her, had it fallen upon her, rolled down, and only just 
missed her. While very thankful for her preservation, 
little did I think that a very few hours would deprive me 
of my darling child. 

" I had scarcely got into the house to prepare for my 
visitant, when she came to me and said, ' I am very sick i 
what must I do ?' I said ' You must pray for patience** 
She asked ' What is patience V and before I could an- 
swer, she was so ill that she could only go into the next 
room to the servant, where the most violent symptoms 
followed. As I was engaged with my friend, and with 
the preaching, having ordered her some medicines, I did 
not see her for several hours : but when I did, I was fully 
convinced that her sickness was fatal. Some farther 
means were used, but wholly without effect : and she 
expired at ten o'clock the next morning, while repeat- 
ing the Lord's prayer, the concluding words of which 
were the last she spoke. 

" Her disorder was an attack of scarlet fever, which 
Dr. Kerr stated to be of a very peculiar kind, and that 
the case was hopeless from the first. I had attended 
fifty or sixty persons of that disease, and all recovered 
except my own child. 

'' She died on the Thursday morning, and on the 
next evening at my lecture at Ravenstone, where I had 



416 MEMOIR, 

undertaken to preach through part of the book of 
Job, the text which came in course was Job i. 21 — The 
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away : Blessed be the 
name of Lorijl ! and on this I preached, notwitstanding 
the death of my child. It would be in vain to attempt 
to describe either my anguish or my exultation on this 
trying, yet animating occasion. Sorrow and joy suc- 
ceeded each other in the highest degree, and often in 
the most rapid manner, that I ever experienced : and 
sometimes they were pathetically, dolefully, yet sweetly 
intermingled. Prayer and thanksgiving seemed my main 
employment. I never obtained such a victory over the 
fear of death as by looking, for a long time together, 
on her corpse. Gradually sorrow abated, and joy 
prevailed ; and I often said I would not exchange my 
dead child for any living child in the world of the same 
age. Some have told me that her religious turn was 
only the effect of her hearing so much on the subject, 
and had nothing so extraordinary in it ; but I never 
could see any thing of the same kind in my other chil- 
dren at so early an age, nor till they were much older; 
though they had at least the same advantage.'' 



THE END. 



3V/'7-7 



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